Saturday, September 29, 2007
I be up nawth
I tried to send a photo but my phone is all shite up here. I saw a squirrel.
There comes a time in every man's life when he has a staggering moment of regret. Mine came after leaving the Unique thrift store in Burnsville the other night without bringing home this special little guy. He was curiously stationed in the electronics section nestled snugly between a monotone monitor manufactured in 1982 and a Russian modem that measured bandwidth in bushels and boar tongues. I was immediately infatuated with him, but in my tired, crabby, commerce-worn state, I scoffed at spending yet another $6 for a faded ceramic chimp coin bank. I had taken that photo of him though, and I could not get him out of my head. Oh, shelf chimp, how could I have forsaken you, leaving you to rot amidst frayed serial cables and naked, hairless Barbie dolls macabrely entombed in sandwich baggies? I knew I had to make this right or die trying. What better use of my Friday lunch hour than to rescue my ceramic soul mate?








With all of the time I've been spending away from home lately, The General has been feeling lonely. Her basic needs are met, but she doesn't get a lot of mommy-kitty bonding time these days. I know it's been bothering her, not because I'm a crazy cat lady and take her to cat psychologists or animal psychics or think she speaks to me, even though I'm pretty sure she once called me a bitch, but because she has her little ways of letting me know she's unhappy.
Willie emailed me last night to tell me of a discussion he had with his son Sam the other night. For twenty minutes, they had a debate about Scooby Doo. Willie was insistent that Scooby Doo defecates, however Sam, wise beyond his years, knew that Scooby was not real and therefore could not poop. Willie's argument was that Scooby is a dog, all dogs poop, so therefore Scooby Doo must poop. 








I was taking a dump when an unidentified pooper entered the stall next to me (perhaps Ass Peanut Man?). I exited the stall to find these two toothpicks sitting next to the sink. If it were a single, lonely toothpick, I wouldn't question it much. Someone had a toothpick in their mouth, and decided they did not want to chew on it while they were expunging old records from their intestinal filing cabinet. Instead of throwing it in the trash a couple of feet away, they carelessly and slovenly left it on the sink. 


























We had a visitor today. He was a very sharp, professional looking chap, all suited and briefcased up. While here, he had to poop. I know because I was in the bathroom when he came in there to poop in a dapper fashion (and also a wet fashion from the sounds of it). Due to the sensitive nature of our business, company policy requires all visitors to be escorted by an employee at all times. This means he needed a poop escort. Unfortunately, this escort usually ends up being our receptionist. So she had to follow our guest to the bathroom and wait outside while he Pollacked our porcelain. I felt kind of bad for her, as I'm sure when she took this position, she did not foresee monitoring people while they shit.