UnpleasantlySexy

Pre-weekend retardation.

Today being Friday, my co-worker Larry was in a rather feisty mood. This became evident when, at 8:30 this morning, he decided to walk over to my cubicle and dump a handful of paper-clips down the back of my shirt. Yeah. So, naturally, I shot him in the chest with a rubber band.

Now, there is a standing rule in the mailroom called no one talks to Sam until he's had two cups of coffee. Today, Larry completely ignored the guidelines and started a discussion about the practicality of converting our mailroom into an American Gladiators-esque arena. You know, where you climb into big hamster-balls and bash into eachother? Then the conversation went into the game called "Assault", where we would set up file boxes to hide behind as we tried to kill one another with tennis balls. I try to tell him that he's an idiot, but he won't listen.

So, when Larry finished his little Gladiators rant, I said to him, "You're stupid, and you're evil. Stop talking to me. I want to enjoy my coffee." He looked at me, and said, whole-heartedly and honestly, "I'm only evil on the outside. My insides are like Switzerland." And then he walked back to his cube.

"My insides are like Switzerland" has been my answer for everything today. That is the single stupidest thing I've heard in at least three days. Simply awesome.

Later, we talked about a new policy to reward good drivers that the Travis County Sheriff's Department is implementing. If a sheriff notices that you're obeying traffic laws and driving safely, he/she will follow you until you arrive at your destination to present you with Round Rock Express tickets. Yep. Tickets to minor-league baseball.

This strikes me as potentially disastrous. Aside from O.J.-style lengthy car chases, the thing that would bother ME most is the possibilty of a Travis County sheriff following me into work one morning. I mean, if everybody saw a cop stop me (on foot, no less) as I entered my building, what kind of impression does that make? How would I NOT be fired?

I'm not too worried, though. Minivans like mine have natural defenses against predators and police. When frightened, my minivan just flares her eyespots and...you know what? It isn't worth continuing this train of thought. This is what my job does to me.

Larry was not finished tormenting me, however. Nope, not yet.
He peeked around his cubicle wall and shot me in the back of the head with a rubber band. Then he asked me, "Did I make your head explode? Because that would look cool."

I couldn't really formulate a response to that, and the first thing that came out of my mouth was, "No, it wouldn't, but it would sound really gross."

Then, one of the strangest, most surreal things happened. Larry walked past my cube, from one side to the other, in slow motion, and he was slowly moving his hands outward, simulating an imagined explosion. He also made the grossest, wettest, splatteriest sound effect with his mouth, a kind of "SPPPPPPPSHHHHHHHHHLLLRRRRRRRRRRPPHHHHHHHHH" sound.

At this point, I heard a "FZZZZT" sound from inside my head, and my motor skills quit on me.

THEN! I got a fax, but it was not actually a fax, apparently. Let me explain. The cover sheet on this fax said "ELECTRO MAIL TRANSMISSION" in all caps along the top. The next part said, "The Department of Defense prohibits the transmittal of classified information via electronic telecommunications devices." The third line said, "FOR ELECTRO MAIL OPERATOR USE ONLY".

Wow. Electro-mail? Sounds so techno-mo-logical. The DOD, huh? You know what the fax was? Info for a $99 trip to Orlando.

I am glad it's Friday.



Until next time!