quote of the week.

Upon me finding Paul's "Vichy Lotion for Men" or some such in his car...

"Don't use too much!  You're using too much!  Agh....  You can't use too much!  I got that in Europe!  It's European!  It's European and it smells like men!"

Prognosis: DIRE

My name is Holly, and I am addicted to lesbian rock.  More specifically, almost any artist in the "angry white woman with a guitar, singing self- absorbed songs about being done wrong and heartbreak" genre.  Apparently these are the only artists who can really express the difficulties and obstacles I've overcome by growing up upper middle class, spoiled, and white in New Hampshire.

As luck would have it, I came of age during the late 90s, when girl power and Lillith Fair were gaining all manner of popularity.  I attended endless Ani DiFranco concerts, and painted my bedroom walls with lyrics that really brought forth my inner pain.  I shaved my head and probably quoted, completely unironically "every tool is a weapon, if you hold it right."  My mother, tortured by endless mix tapes entitled things like "I am NOT a Pretty Girl!," during our many college visits- to women's schools of course, that I would never actually attend- was baffled.  "What do these women have to be so mad about?" she would enquire.  And I, in my 17 years of wisdom, would reply "Life, Mom, life."  She would roll her eyes and keep driving, and my reply?  "You think that I am the derelict daughter, well I fight fire with words, words are hotter than flames, words are wetter than water."  Seriously.  

Regardless, whenever I am feeling relatively angsty, I always return to my girls.  Ani, Tori, Fiones, the Indigo Girls, Joni- the list is endless.  The past week or so has been particularly dreadful.  Perhaps spurred by a few ghastly run-ins with Jose, that super rat, I have been unable to listen to anything but heart wrenching folk-esque music.  I am constantly on the verge of tears, and absolutely everything has meaning.  The other day at work I actually considered going into the bathroom to listen to the Indigo Girls' cover of "Romeo and Juliet" and have a cry.  Luckily some semblance of logic, and the fear that I would come out of the stall, tear stained and clutching my iPod to run into a co-worker stopped me.  But just barely.  I have to take solace in listening to it on repeat 17 times in a row on the T, or in my room, where I do some heinous hippie esque dance while singing.  As you can imagine, my roommates LOVE me.

What to do?  I've got to get some help before this gets even more out of control, and I start talking about my "moon time," the healing power of stones, and vibrating at a higher frequency.

After all, the hardest to learn is the least complicated.

Let's all be unethical!

Because of Holly's inability to provide even the slightest modicum of productivity at work yesterday due to her tremendous hangover, it is imperative that today we discuss ethical standards. What on earth are ethics and why do we have them? Well, the good folks at Miriam Webster define ethic as the following:

1plural but sing or plural in constr : the discipline dealing with what is good and bad and with moral duty and obligation2 a: a set of moral principles : a theory or system of moral values —often used in plural but singular or plural in construction bplural but sing or plural in constr : the principles of conduct governing an individual or a group c: a guiding philosophy d: a consciousness of moral importance 3plural : a set of moral issues or aspects (as rightness)

To us, it seems that ethics are just a way to prevent us from living our lives the way we want to live them. They’re frequently cited by those who possess more than you or by those who are afraid that you might be squeezing more enjoyment from the fruit of life than they are.

We at tresvite say, go ahead. Be unethical. Embrace your unethicalness. Slack off at work. Take that calculator home with you. Sleep with your coworker. Get too drunk and make someone else pay for it. Our stance is if it would only hurt someone if they find out, well, make sure they don’t find out!

generally if you think you should stay home from work, you probably should.

OH MY LORD. I AM QUITE HUNGOVER. And severely regretting my decision to come in this morning. It ranks up there with other massively bad life decisions such as a) majoring in liberal arts and b) pretty much the years of 2005-early 2007. I am definitely wearing a plaid skirt, with tights and I did have on doc martens before I switched to heels- um, 1997 called, it needs its outfit back.

Stupidity Exposed by Word

Hi. Paul here with my rant of the day; well, at least the moment.

With spell check embedded in virtually every application today, even a document done by a dunderhead dazzles on occasion. The problem comes when the scuff marks still show through even after applying shine to that sneaker. Stupidity can be drowned out, but like the off-key soprano in a kids Christmas concert, it will eventually come out and cause discomfort. Not for the offender, but for those in the audience whose aural palette can appreciate a decent C sharp.

Here at 17, I was recently copied on an email where the sender inquired if the recipient wanted to “spear head” something. If you’re going to use an insipid cliché, it makes sense to learn the value of a compound word. It almost makes me want to beat myself senseless with a base ball bat. If you didn’t get the irony of that sentence, your not paying attention.

Why are we ‘spear heading’ something to begin with? If it’s necessary to speak in mindless business banter, couldn’t we at least take the lead and get creative?

On an unrelated note, why does food seem to taste better in Chicago than in any other American city?

9 to 5? oh i wish!

Having spent the majority of my adult life pursuing a career that will never bring me money or fame(ie modern dance), it was a strange new world when, in the interest of health insurance(and not having to spend Friday nights with drunken fools pinching my ass for tips), I decided to enter the corporate realm. Mind you, I had never worked in a corporation, and had no real desire to do anything but DANCE(!), and so didn't care what job I took, so long as I could dress up every day, and not be working until 3am.

What a fortuitous event it seemed when I was hired by 17 almost immediately, despite my double major degree in the most unmarketable areas existing from a small exclusive northeast school; and complete lack of excel or powerpoint skills. I think my parents died of shock, resurrected themselves, and threw a party(which I was NOT invited to, lest it derail this sudden exploration into adulthood). 17, a company that sells fairly innocuous software of the sort that would put you to sleep were I to describe it, seemed like a fabulous opportunity. Lots of young 20 somethings who seemed smart! Motivated! Interesting!

The first month was filled with all manner of fascinating new things I'd never experienced- cubicles! A supply closet! This crazy coffee machine! However, soon it all became a bit clear as to why movies like "Office Space"(which I had never understood before) are so successful- because working for "the man," to be trite and boring, sucks.

The one life raft in this ocean of horror on which I am adrift every day from 8-6? Paul, my entertaining, dashing, endlessly fascinating coworker. While out for savories at our spot last week, we were discussing the somewhat interesting way in which our company seduces people into signing their lives away here. Following is the beginning of a regular feature entitled "17 Speak- What They Say, and What it Means" Today let's 'unpack' the terminology of (drum roll please)The Interview:


They say:"We're a work hard, play hard company that prides ourself on a tight knit culture."

Equals: We're a bunch of alcoholics for whom this company is our only life. When we aren't working 70 hour weeks, we all go out with each other exclusively, and binge drink in the manner of a 21 year old frat boy. But with British accents. Cheers!



They say: "He's a good fit candidate."

Equals: Most likely a frat boy who uses too much hair gel, refers to beers as 'brewskis' and showers in Axe body spray. Enjoys binge drinking, referring to gay people as faggots(and not in an ironic way), yelling, and using phrases like 'making it happen.' Find themselves extremely hilarious, no comprehension of sarcasm. Bonus points if you live with someone else in the company. If you're married, have a serious significant other, interests or friends that extend outside the company, or have/may want children at some unnamed point in the future, please don't apply.



They say: "We are completely interested in hiring from within."

Equals: We will only hire from within this incestuous cult, no matter whether a qualified candidate exists, or whether it lies within the best interest of the company. Even if the only possible candidate is completely unsuited, if they are currently here, we will ABSOLUTELY choose them. While we tell you that upward promotion is what we hire for, you will need to be ready to beg, cry, and harass in order to achieve a position that opens up.

They say: "We have this fantastic little tradition called Fiesta!, where we all go out after work on the last day of the month and drink together. It's a terrific time!"

Equals: We will be quaffing elegant cocktails and suavely discussing intricate, esoteric topics with a bevy of sharp witted gentlemen and ladies, all equipped with a razor sharp intellect and rapier charm. Except the exact opposite.

Join us soon for more of these quaint turns of phrase!