You Are What You Eat

My good friend Gary sent me the link where you can order the following item, perfect for the computer nerds in every office:

Now, normally I'd mock such goofball inventions, but admit it -- there have been times in all of our lives where it'd actually be a good idea to have something like this to discourage our rude-as-hell co-workers (and managers) from using our personal items for their own use.

Examples? Okay. Imagine coming in and finding your personal cup filled with pencils, because your pinhead boss couldn't find his own pencil holder. Yep, it happened to me once.

Or imagine having your boss' wife come in on a weekend, and having her take your coffee cup and give it to Goodwill? That one happened to the Lovely Mrs. G. a few years back.

But it's the nasty idiots who actually *use* your personal sippy cup for their sugar-filled coffee that burns my buttons. There's nothing grosser than going to get your cup and finding it's filled with moldy coffee on the inside, and covered with lipstick stains on the outside. Have you no courtesy, people?

I'm sure you all have stories like this – dealing with co-workers who wouldn't know the expression "personal boundaries" if you tattooed it on their thick skulls.

There's that person who prowls through your desk drawer at night. Or the people who 'help themselves' to your candy dish, Kleenex, office supplies, spare change, etc. because they "knew you wouldn't mind." (Wanna bet?)

Or the worst offender of them all – the lunch thief. You know you've got to be pretty damn desperate to swipe someone's lunch from the company fridge. How low can you go?

I've had my lunch ripped off more than once, but only once did I react in a way that some would call…beyond simple revenge.

It was the early 90's. I was sadly unemployed but trying to make ends meet between permanent gigs, so I was temping for an awful-as-hell trucking company in Auburn, Washington.

This place sucked. I mean, it sucked big time. Most of the people who worked there had that awful "office face" – that look that says "I've been working here far too long, but I'm too fucking dumb to ever change my situation, so I'll sit here and rot in my own misery for the rest of my long, pathetic life." Or something close to that.

Anyway, my lunch was in the fridge from 9:30 AM until my assigned lunch ½ hour at 2:00. I went to retrieve it, and lo and behold – one of those ugly bastards had polished off my Good Eats. Well, mostly. They ate my sandwich, but stuffed the crust back into the bag. They also ate my grapes, but left me the vine. My can of pop and cookies though were long gone – no evidence left behind.

So I happened to bring it up with my "supervisor" (another burnout, but this one with a nasty drinking problem to make her attitude even more enjoyable!), and she actually said, "Yeah, well, that happens." No apology, no mentioning to the other workers that maybe they should keep their meaty paws off other people's lunches, nothing.

Well, it was obvious I wasn't going to have any sort of backing from her (bitch!), so I had to take matters into my own hands.

I went home that night and prepared an extra special lunch for the next day.

It was the most beautiful sandwich you've ever seen – it would've brought tears to the eyes of Dagwood Bumstead, it was that nice.

Two slices of whole wheat bread, lettuce, Swiss cheese, mustard, mayo, you name it. I'm telling you - it was a deli masterpiece. But as fantastic as that all may sound, the "piece de resistance" was the meat inside this delectable wonder.

Say, did you know that when you spread fresh dog crap on a slice of whole wheat bread, it looks a lot like canned luncheon spread?

Yes, thanks to a black lab that had eaten far too much that afternoon, a Popsicle stick, and my own filthy quest for vengeance, a beautifully prepared Dog Shit Sandwich was now wrapped in waxed paper, waiting for the next day.

And just so you don’t' think I'm a completely horrible, disgusting so-and-so, I did put a note in the lunch sack next to the Double-Decker-Doggie-Hoagie that read "I wouldn't eat this if I were you." I mean, it's only fair that I gave the lunch thief a sporting chance, isn't it?

The next morning: My tainted sammich was in the fridge at 9:30. Now all I had to do was wait.

2:00 PM finally rolled around, and I leapt from my chair and bolted to the lunch room to see if the bait had been taken.

Sure enough, my Dog Shit Delight was gone.

The only sad part is that I never knew which of those douchebags ate it – nobody ever fessed up, and I didn't hear of anyone throwing up that afternoon. Is it possible that they actually…liked it? Hey, Mikey!

I quit that awful job a couple of weeks later – I actually told my lush supervisor where she could stick her crappy job – and never went back. Good riddance.

So keep this in mind, if you're ever dying of hunger and are instead eyeballing someone else's lunch… The sandwich before you may not necessarily be what you think it is. For cat food can look a lot like tuna salad, laxatives look like chocolate chips, and properly shaped and spread doggy poo can resemble Spam, in the hands of someone who doesn't want to share their food with you.

Trust me – hop in the car and go pick up a McBurgers. It may have about the same nutritional equivalent as a crap-on-a-bun does, but you won't regret it nearly as much every time you burp afterwards.

Woof.

Normally when I post a news item that is considered "weird", "odd", and/or "downright grody to-the-max,-I'm-sure", I just copy and paste the original news article into the blog. Slap it between two sets of asterisks, put the title in bold, and Bob's your uncle.

No big deal, right?

Well, today's odd news-o-rama is a little different, because I wanted you to see the page layout for the article. And yes – the story is a little yucky, but it's only half the fun.

Ready? Here's the story:

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Okay – you should be good and grossed out by now. Ewww….a lady and HER DOGS? And HER SON found the videos? That's NASTY, son!

But the funny part is the ad for the casino that coincidently shows up right next to the article.

Check out who is coming soon to the Riverwind Casino:

Yes, perhaps one IS indeed the loneliest number that you ever knew…

My first thought is that this ad being placed next to this particular story can't be an accident. I mean, c'mon. Lady humping dogs on tape = three dog night? It all works out a little *too* well, if you're the least bit cynical like me.

Still, if it was just a one-in-a-zillion chance, then by golly it was a good one.

We'll know for sure if tomorrow they run a story on O.J. Simpson next to an ad for Ginzu knives.

Staycations Suck!

There's a nasty new expression circulating these days – one I don't particularly care for. In fact, in my mind it's almost a bad word.

It's "Staycation".

As in, "Good God Almighty – gas prices are through the roof! Instead of that cross-country jaunt we were planning on this summer, let's stay home and have a STAYCATION!"

Yes, thanks to our being continuously gouged at the gas pump, people all over America are putting off those long road trips in favor of visiting some of the more local attractions, provided there are any nearby.

While this does make economical sense, I suppose, it sure does put a damper on a lot of summer fun. I mean, given the choice, wouldn't you rather spend 2 days in the car driving to Disneyland instead of 2 hours driving to see The World's Largest Wad of Used Kleenex? Maybe that's just me.

Thanks to new jobs, limited vacation time, and my delving back into schoolwork, the Lovely Mrs. G. and I aren't going to have much of a vacation this summer. This bums me out, to be sure – but we'll make up for it sometime later this year with a trip to Vegas.

But if we could go somewhere far, far, away for a few days of R & R, you know damn well we would. Gas prices or no gas prices.

Oh, sure – it may mean an extra credit card payment, or that we'll have to eat a McBurger instead of a top sirloin one night, but visiting a new & exotic locale sure beats the hell out of driving up to the Corn Palace in Mitchell, SD again.

You see, a lot of the "staycation" worthy tourist attractions around here are…how shall I put this?...

LAME-ASS.

Yeah, that's the best way to call 'em as I see 'em. Lame-ass. Which means if you really want to do anything cool, you'll need to get the heck out of Dodge (or Dodge County, if you prefer), and travel a few miles.

Here's some prime examples of nearby tourist activities:

1 – The aforementioned Corn Palace, of Mitchell, South Dakota. It's a small sports arena with corn tacked all over the outside walls. That's pretty much it. They use yellow, red, and brown corn (who knew there was such a rainbow of corn colors?) to make patterns, and then you can stand there and marvel at it as the crows pick it clean. 5 Yawns Up.

2 – Hastings, Nebraska – the birthplace of Kool-Aid. It may be fun once, just to see if they let you burst through the wall and yell "Oh, yeah!" There's actually a Kool-Aid museum here, if you're so inclined. Shall I tell them about my teenage secret recipe for "red devils", which mixed tropical punch Kool-Aid with vodka? Probably not.

3 – Omaha, Nebraska – The World's Largest Ball of Postage Stamps. Yes, my hometown is home to this tribute to all things sticky on one side. According to Roadside America, "The sphere is 32 inches in diameter, weighs 600 pounds, and contains a reported 4,655,000 canceled stamps." And hey – if you really get bored, you can COUNT THEM! Even though this one is close enough that I can go check it out at 11:30 and then be home in time for a sammich, I still think I'll pass.

4 – Exira, Iowa – Plow in the Tree. It's a plow. In a tree. And just think – you drove all the way out here to see it. Now go get a CAT scan – you're obviously brain damaged.

5 – Independence, MO – Leila's Hair Museum. This one's a little more than a tank of gas away from here, but hey – when you can spend an entire afternoon in a museum dedicated to your follicles, why wouldn't you go?

Leila makes "art" with hair clippings – "There's hair that's been made into rings, watch fobs, bracelets, necklaces, earrings, chains, brooches, hat pins, bookmarks, and corsages," sez Roadside America. Hmmm… Maybe when we go I should take Leila an addition for her collection, courtesy of my cat's yacking in my shoes?

Now you see why it’s worth the scratch to escape the Midwest for a while?

So there you have it – just another example of why you really should save your money and drop the coin for a nice, friendly, far-away "real" vacation.

Spending a week on the beach may not be as exciting as looking at a plow in a tree, but your kids won't despise you nearly as much afterwards.

See? I told you he was full of it...

Ah, if only I was allowed to vote in San Fran…

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San Francisco to vote on naming sewer after George Bush

Some presidents get carved into Mt Rushmore; others have airports, motorways, and even entire cities named in their honor. But when George Bush leaves office, his most visible memorial may be a moldering patch of human sewage.

In November, alongside casting their ballot for the next president, the people of San Francisco will also vote on a measure to rename one of the city's largest sewage works the George W. Bush Sewage Plant, to provide a "fitting monument" to the outgoing commander-in-chief's achievements.

Activists from the Presidential Memorial Commission of San Francisco will ask supporters to participate in a "synchronized flush".

It may sound like a student prank, but the proposal is almost certain to be passed. Democrats usually secure between 70 and 80 per cent of the vote in San Francisco – and in 2006 passed a proposition to impeach Mr Bush and his Vice-President Dick Cheney by a majority of almost two to one.

"In 50 years from now, we want people to see George Bush's name on that plant, and ask each other what went wrong," said Brian McConnell, the Memorial Commission's organizer. "We want them to be reminded of the Iraq war, and his other dramatic mistakes, and this is the perfect way to do it."

The ballot takes advantage of local government rules, which state that any proposal supported by a petition carrying the signatures of more than 7,168 voters must go to the polls. At present, the supporters of the sewage plant proposal claim to have 8,500 signatures, and counting. If the measure passes, city authorities will be forced to erect a prominent sign bearing the legend "George W Bush Sewage Plant" at the site of the bayside facility.

However, Mr. McConnell claimed to have only noticed two forms of opposition during his campaign so far. "First, we get people who say they just want to forget George Bush's presidency," he said. "Second, we hear from those who say that sewage plants perform a valuable public service and, as such, it does not make sense to name one after George Bush."

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Can January 20, 2009 come soon enough? I don't think so.