Voices voices voices

One of the signs that I'm no longer 25 is that it takes me a lot longer to heal from overzealous workouts. So on days where things hurt, I'll spend time hanging out at my gym's sauna.

There, I make it a point to just sit there in tepid, silent misery, sweat dripping into my eyes. Why? Because it's hot. It's a sauna, of course I'm gonna sweat. Pay attention. Oh yeah, the silent part. I do so because I grew up heeding the warning not to talk to strangers. As I've grown older, I've added to that truism and qualified that statement to apply especially to strangers when all they're wearing is a towel around their waists. But I digress.

There were four of us silent, suffering folk in the room that day. For the first 5 minutes, no one said a word. Then suddenly, one of the gentlemen in the room got a manic, pupil-dilated look about him and started to rant. Postage stamps are a conspiracy! There are cameras on me every second of the day; I can FEEL it! This sub-prime mess is a direct result of meddling by the Bio-Fuel industry! He paused only as long as it took his flared nostrils time to inhale a gulp of stale hot sauna air. Then he dove right into his tirade again.

Hey I'm the first to admit that the old fillings in my molars pick up coded military transmissions as well as an occasional country/western station, but this guy was outta control. The three of us, presumably normal, made quick eye contact with each other, and simultaneously checked our wrists. I wasn't wearing a watch, but it didn't matter. Hoo! Already 6min and 42 seconds...late for my conference call. The other two guys mumbled some variation of that and we stumbled over each other to get out of the room. I glanced over my shoulder to see if crazy man was following (which in horror films, guarantee that you get an axe in your cranium). He wasn't. But he looked at us, spat, and said, "Yeaaaaah THAT's what I thought!"

Unnerved as I was, I couldn't help but wonder. Are there really microchips in postage stamps that the pork belly-hair spray industrial complex uses to track my DNA?

Deep Thoughts

And the coolest part? These guys will film your company's product being blended for $10,000. Now if THAT ain't next-generation, scalable, flexible, best in breed, end-to-end solutions for your small, medium or large business, I dunno what is!

Your bases are belong to us

Label on the back of an imported bottle of liquor "May causing deposits after settling. This is normal product quality." It's probably a typical piece of text that goes on stuff like this, and it probably makes perfect sense in the original language. As it stood though, I was somewhat at a loss as to what to do with this info.

Now on the other hand, if that were a label on the Burrito Supreme at the local Taco Bell, I'd understand instantly, and agree that yes, that is a good warning...

Mysteries in the Breakroom

That sack of candy canes in the break room? Yeah, you found me out. That was me. I don't like candy canes to begin with, let alone a bag full of those December Candy Corn analogues. So I gently placed them on the breakroom table. Anything placed there magically evaporates within two days, leaving only the plastic baggie that it came in. Fruit? Gone. Left over pizza? Gone in minutes. I have to admit I've been both a provider as well as consumer of these goodies.

But wait. I had nothing to do with the crud that was left there this morning. Some kind soul left behind a half bag of flour, bag of half-eaten Family Size pork rinds, and a bottle of corn syrup. While I have seen cases of the Denizens of the First Floor down bags of sugar in the late afternoons, I'm not quite sure what to make of the rest...?

In the meantime, if you want some pork rinds, swing by my office!