Oh, my stars and garters!

Ok, here's the plan:

We will not think about the computer anymore. We will not open up the second bag of cheese wheat. We will not sneak out of the office to buy cheese curds. We will not think for very long about all the fun, interesting, or fulfilling things we could be doing on a warm night in April.

We will do our work promptly and thoroughly. We will limit our cigarette breaks to a reasonable amount of time. We will be cheerful and courteous. We will go home at the end of our shift, drink a beer, and begin again tomorrow.

Computron

We are having computer issues too boring and, at least to me, incomprehensible to go into here. But the point is, we bought the fuckin' thing in November, and it's already making us very angry. And yes, we had protection and ran it, and no, we didn't do anything too crazy with it. But whatever happened necessitated a total wipe and a new hard drive, and still, despite many hours and the almost superhumanly patient ministrations of Eric, Roone, and Dan, we still can't get the ratsinfratsin thing to hook up to the internet. But oh, that's just computers for you, you know how those crazy computers are!

What if I spent $700 on a brand-new stove, and it worked great for three months, everything was cooked evenly and to perfection, but then all of a sudden it started having intermittent gas leaks and one day without warning incinerated everything in my kitchen? And everyone just clucked and said, oh, that's just stoves for you, those crazy stoves, what won't they do next, ha, ha. Ha.

No.

Granted, our computer crashing isn't a health hazard unless you count hightened blood pressure and the potential for physical violence, and granted, my stove doesn't recieve hidden pop-ups that secretly block up the gas line while I'm unwittingly boiling pasta. But still. It's 2005. That shit should be rock-solid by now. And don't talk to me about Macs. I don't have two grand plus god knows how much else for software, and even if I did, I've had more than my share of projects wiped out by those bastards, including a section of a newspaper an hour before deadline. Oh, those kooky G4s!

S'WHEAT!

Sorry. I don't know wheat's got into me.

Wheat's the problem?

Oh, dear. I ate entirely too much wheat today.

Wheat's my new favorite snack? Yes.

Officemate and former Kansan Joel recently brought in some cheese wheat that his mom had sent him. Cheese wheat, for the uninitiated, is delicious flavored popped wheat kernels. I liked it so much I couldn't shut up about it and was sad that it's only available in Kansas. Joel relayed all this to his mom, and she sent me two big bags of ranch-flavored Wheat Treats. Joel's mom is one classy lady.

Speaking of regional delicacies, I indirectly learned from Jenamonkey that you can get cheese curds at A&W restaurants. I spent a summer in southeast Minnesota a few years ago, and one of the few redeeming features of the region--aside from its proximity to other, more interesting places--was the availability of cheese curds. They're greasy, salty, and squeaky, and I'm going to have to get some real soon. I bet they're every bit as grody-good as Sonic's short-lived Pickle-O offering.

I'd hug you but I'm holding corn.

In case you were wondering how you can feel like God for a couple of hours, I accidentally discovered a little secret at Dan's birthday cookout yesterday, and I'd like to share it with you.  All you have to do is drink two cups of coffee, take a dose of Dayquil, drink three beers, and eat nothing but a cupcake all afternoon. Oops! Wow!

Uh! Uh! Uh!

My April 1 Drunk Socks redesign was a huge success. Roone laughed for a long time when he discovered it. Then he pelted me with boxes of cigarettes, maybe a little longer and harder than I felt was necessary. Then he pouted. I laughed myself to sleep, flush with victory. He was still pouting today when he got up until I showed him how easy it was to change it back to a more reasonable look.

So far, no retaliation. That of course could change, but usually I can count on the fact that no one else even bothers to do dumb shit like that.

I'm back at work. My nose hurts. My eyes hurt. My upper lip is an angry red because I forgot to buy tissue and have been using rough, pointy paper towels instead. But everything else feels just fine. Fine! I said I'm fine! Everything is just. Fine. Leave me alone. You don't know me! Nobody knows me!

No, really. It's just a head cold.