Wednesday, July 14, 2004

It's a Food Omen from Vending Machine Hell

Those who regularly read my website, and I know about all two of you, know that I seldom write about my employer(s). There's a few good reasons for this, mostly because I don't want to bore you (you're welcome!) and partially because I keep an on-line journal in part to avoid work-related writing. It forces me to focus, for five minutes everyday, on something other than the standard "office memo" of which I've learned to churn out at a blindly fast pace. I even joke sometimes at work about have "a bullshit generator" which, after turning a fictious crank, produces brilliantly beautiful crap suitable for framing and hanging in your own cubicle (which is usually where I wish you'd retreat, since I'm too busy producing brilliant bullshit to talk with the likes of you.) But today, my friends, today is the exception to the rule.

I've already spoke about burning my lunch at work yesterday. About how the damned microwave nuked it on high power until it was left looking like charcoal. For lunch today I brought a bagel. Now, I know what you're thinking, "damn, I wish I could rent the bullshit generator!" (No, sorry, you can't. It shuts down when not put to good use.) And I also know that bagels are boring and predictable and dull and they make me look so much less exciting than I could be. If only I could be exciting, that is.

Actually, the subject of this rather round-about web log is that, while it's true I bring a bagel to work every day, and every day, around noontime, I go over to the "cafe" at work, and every day shortly after I go over to the "cafe" at work, I slice my bagel, put it in the toaster, and toast it, today was special. Today was like "omen day." You see, today, for some strange reason, we no longer have a toaster in the "cafe." Yes, it's true. Somebody swiped the damned toaster. Rather than blame this on one particular meanie, which would be entirely too easy, I've decided that there is some kind of conspiracy going here. Sun Microsystems has banded together in some kind of an attempt at starving me. And I bet they're doing it from a grassy knoll too. Oh sure, you laugh. But, let's see you try to eat lunch in this place. At least I've got a damned good head start on the entire starvation deal. Hey, go ahead, Sun, try it. Let's see you get past these hips! I've got enough fat stored up for something close to seven winters. Ha! Take that! And I even found a toaster behind the counter to boot.

The other day, while in the "cafe" (don't visit if you're hungry) Manzoor noticed that they had a vending machine, but he didn't quite have the right change. After sorting and sifting through various pockets, we came up with the two bucks needed to get him something that we both thought was a chicken sandwich. Trouble is it was a pork chop. (Neither Manzoor nor I eat pork.) After pulling the pork chop out of the machine, Manzoor smacked his head in frustation and said, "it's an omen. God does not want me to eat today!" I told him I would not have been so nice. I would not have blamed it on God's will and moved on, rather I would be pissed to the chins at the vending machine people for not clearly labeling the damned pork chops (are you listening, Ted?)

It's all a great conspiracy to starve us. I'm convinced. Either that or Ted's been stocking the vending machines round these parts.

Until next time...

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