What Did I Forget This Morning… ?

This morning was a fun one, reader(s)*. Due to a series of events as annoying as they are mundane, my plan to take the day off from the day job to do things far busier than the actual day job itself proved to be impossible. There was something scheduled that involved other people, outsiders, coming into the office for a tour, and I couldn’t get a hold of a coworker who might’ve been able to fill-in for me, so I was the only person for the job. Unfortunately, I discovered this to be the case right around the time I should’ve been leaving for work — yet I’d done none of my morning “getting ready for work” rituals.

* The “s” is there assuming that someone other than me reads this. If not, I have one reader, and that is me, which is very bleak. Very bleak indeed.**

** Last part of the second sentence and the entirety of the third sentence typed in an exaggerated Michael Caine voice.***

*** Also known as know as simply “a Michael Caine voice.”

When I realized I had to skip my day off plans (that, again, to be clear, would’ve been more work than my actual work day), I’d already started brewing coffee — not the norm, as I usually drink the free coffee at the office. I vowed then and there not to let anything force me to waste my own hard earned coffee!

With some curses and swear words, I jumped in the shower and proceeded to clean myself far quicker than usual. During the shower, my phone rang, and I figured it was the coworker I tried to call, but I couldn’t answer due to the water falling on my head (via the shower). As I wrapped that task up and pulled the shower curtain back, I wondered if I’d forgotten to wash or rinse anything, but I didn’t think so. Time (and future itching) would tell.

As I frantically tried to dry off while checking my voicemail. As suspected, it was my coworker. I called, and the conversation proved to be fruitless, as he, despite being a good person, could not help me. My rushed and curse-filled getting ready for day job work continued apace.

No time for shaving, I robed and hurried to my room to slap on some clothes. Since I don’t have many options this went pretty quick.

Then it was a mumbly, swear-filled jaunt to the kitchen where I spilled coffee everywhere, cursed some more, but was then able to get enough to fill a cup and get to my bird crap-covered car.

I was only twenty minutes late for work by this point, which would’ve made me early by most standards. Traffic was lighter than when I usually leave for work, so I got there quicker than expected, arriving only about forty minutes late — which might put me in contention for a manager position.

As I hopped out of my car and started toward the elevator, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d forgotten something. I sipped my coffee, and… uh oh.

DID I BRUSH MY TEETH???

Normally I do this after the shower, but I was returning a phone call, so… oh man. This was (and still is) bad. The coffee taste was either blocking fresh minty breath or… horrible hellhound morning breath. I had no way of knowing. Would others? Would my teeth fall out? Why don’t I have a toothbrush and toothpaste at work anymore? I used to, darn it! I USED TO!

As I type this, I’m still drinking my coffee and still not sure if my teeth were brushed… though I’m leaning toward a “no.” If my luck continues apace, any moment a potential lady of my dreams is going to talk to me and get a whiff of my unbrushed teeth breath and write me off forever.

Two Rights Make A Wrong So Right It’s Wrong

There was a time when I would not have put a mini Snickers bar and a mini Twix bar in my mouth at the same time, chewing them together into one über-snack. It was an era of dignity and self-respect. Now I find myself wondering if a 3 Musketeers and Kit Kat would be as decadently delicious. (Note to self: this probably would be awesome, so go ahead and try it as soon as typing is complete.)

By way of an explanation, let me back up a bit. You see, today I walked from my in-place-putting hallway desk into my managers’ office. In said office, aside from my managers themselves, is a Spider-Man’s head-shaped candy bowl. Inside the faux-Spidey-skull is, well, just a lot of candy.

I initially went for a mini-Twix, but then deemed it too small for my mouth. Instead of grabbing another mini-Twix to make a decent-sized-Twix (or, say, putting the candy down and getting an apple), a mini-Snickers bar caught my eye, and — you know what? I didn’t really need to back up at all, did I? The act of putting a mini-Snickers bar and mini-Twix bar in my mouth at the same time is it’s own explanation.

Like it says in the Constitution of the United States of America, combining foods can be awesome, especially when the foods in question are chocolate-based candies. Common knowledge to anyone who knows even a modicum of history.

On a related note, I’ve been trying to lose weight for a few months now, partly at my doctor’s advisement, partly due to my money-saving desire to not outgrow my current pants size have to buy new pants. It’s been going pretty well, surprisingly.

My technique is to eat, well, less. Still eat. Eat plenty, really. Just eat decent-sized instead of HUGE meals with less fried things and whatnot. It works most of the time, but once in a while I snap and do things like put a mini-Snickers and mini-Twix bar into my mouth at the exact same time, my only regret being that they are mini and not full-sized.

A Celebration of the Triumph of Hope

Normally I walk to work, but it was raining (well, drizzling) this morning, which required I get in my car in drive. Good thing I hadn’t had my morning bourbon yet! Did I type “bourbon”? I meant coffee. Coffee with bourbon.

Anyway, I got to work, and who should I see in the parking garage but my good buddy Christopher Lambert! (“Christopher Lambert” is not my friend’s real name, but I won’t presume it’s okay to just put his name on my widely read* blog without his permission… and I just don’t want to ask for his permission.)

He was sitting there with the car running, and my first thought was, “Oh crap… Christopher Lambert wants to go gently into the night, even though it’s the morning!”

I walked up to him and explained that the parking garage was way too large and ventilated for what he appeared to be doing to work. He explained that that was not what he was doing at all, but that he was instead getting an odometer reading for his car insurance since he moved and — oh shit, I need to change my address with MY insurance. Wait, where was I… ?

So, anyway, I tell him to hurry his ass up and get out of the car. How long does it take to write down a few numbers? And why did the car have to be on to do it? Christopher Lambert doesn’t make any sense half the time.

He gets out of the car to follow me to our awesome  day jobs, closing his door as — oh crap. “Did I really just do that?” Christopher Lambert asks, billy goat eyes wide, face full of terror.

I look at his car, headlights pointlessly on (really, why did he have those on to check his odometer?), engine humming. “Do you have a spare key?”

Christopher Lambert said he did… at his apartment… and his apartment keys were with his now trapped car key. I made some other dismissed suggestions as Dan Cortese (named, for the purposes of this story here, after the famed MTV SPORTS host in order to protect the real individual’s name à la Christopher Lambert) parked near us. I innocently asked Dan Cortese if he had “breaking into car skills,” which Christopher Lambert deemed racist. Whatever he was commenting on didn’t occur to me, as, to me, there is but one race: the human race. (And dolphins. So maybe two races.)

Anyway, Dan Cortese didn’t know about breaking into cars, and Christopher Lambert was freaking out. I felt guilty, as my talking to him had probably caused Christopher Lambert to stupidly close his locked door with his keys still in the ignition of his running car. It was all my fault, and soon Christopher Lambert would realize it and guilt me into having a terrible day. Just a terrible, awful day.

But then Christopher Lambert’s face changed from a look of despair to one of triumph! “I have a spare car key in my jacket in my cube upstairs!” This was a great moment and one deserving of a hi five even as Christopher Lambert needlessly elaborated that he was going to wear his hoodie but instead wore the jacket in which he always keeps a spare car key.

After he’d used his spare key to turn off his car, he came to the realization I knew he would: this whole fiasco was essentially my fault. Thinking fast, I lied that this had all been part of my plan. I came upon a man who looked broken and inept at suicide. Though this was not the case, I continued on as if it was, for to see the light, one must sometime travel to the depths of the dark… I knew he’d end up locking his key in his car! I knew it’d cause moments of panic and fear! BUT I ALSO KNEW that he had a spare key, which he’d realize hopefully before tears started welling up in his puppy dog eyes!

This day would now be the greatest day he’d ever known. A day that started with triumph out of adversity. And I’d insisted I’d knowingly given it to him.

Okay, now I have to call my car insurance company, a company I’ll call, oh, All State (not really, but I want to protect my insurance company’s name instead of asking it for permission to mention it here), to change my address.

*Untrue. Quite the opposite in fact. – Truth Police

Waking Up Right

Look, as I wrote a couple days ago, I have issues with waking up in the morning. So many so, that I slept through yesterday. A whole day! I guess my 7:00 AM alarm went off for a while, then stopped… then went off again at 7:00 AM this morning, and it stirred me from my epic slumber. And even after a whole extra and unplanned 24 hours of sleepytime — I still groaned and grumbled about getting out of my slightly too short for my body length bed!

The part of not liking getting up in the morning that I can change (as I have to go to work regardless, which is the other unlikeable part), is my alarm music. Currently it’s a “melody” on my 12-year-old girl appropriate Samsung Rant phone called “Sunny Day.” I picked this due to it’s name, which I’d hoped would translate into a g’mornin’ smile. It’s got a nice, brassy beat and a celebratory feel… and is incredibly annoying.

I think there is only one bit of music that I’d be happy with interrupting my dream time…

This would make me wake up with purpose! Gotta find that ringtone and then figure out how to download ringtones and if I can even do stuff like that on my Raaaant.

Yeah! Wakin’ up in style! Heroically!!!