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Monday, June 27, 2005

Will Drive for Food

Stale saltines and water. Prison food, or breakfast of champions?

My office provides breakfast for all of us every Monday, which is very cool. My manager usually goes out and gets it, and if she's not here, then one of the other assistants or I will usually do it. There have been a few times that someone who was supposed to bring in breakfast has gotten sick and is therefore absent, rendering the rest of the office foodless for breakfast. One of our attorneys coined it "The Royal Screwjob" when this happens. Usually, I'm smart enough to have something stashed away for these times, maybe a fruit cup or a trusty packet of oatmeal that never seems to expire. Stuff I basically don't want to eat, ever, but will if I have to. Today, however, I only had stale saltines. Lovely. It's not that no one brought in breakfast today; it's that breakfast consisted of tamales. Not being a tamale-kind-of-girl myself, in an office full of tamale connoisseurs, it's kind of my own individual Royal Screwjob on tamale days. That's okay. I know it's a great perk that my firm feels the need to even feed us breakfast every Monday in the first place, so I'm not complaining. I don't expect handouts (though I'll gladly take them). I just wish I had thought to replenish the Oh-Great-It's-a-Tamale-Day stash.

Good thing I had four fudge-covered mint Oreos and a Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper on my way to work.

Hey Boonz, how's that diet going? Okay then. Glad to see it's workin' out for ya.

* * *

I had to drive my husband's landbeast of a truck to work today because I have no gas in my car and we don't get paid until Thursday. I always hate driving that thing because it's so high up that I could probably mow down a whole field trip's worth of little kids and not even know it, which of course makes me paranoid. Combine that with the fact that I absolutey CANNOT see around my blindspot in that thing (Dodges have the worst blindspots, in my humble opinion), and that the lanes downtown are so insanely narrow, and it just makes for the commute from hell. I actually like driving it out on the open road, but downtown, it just makes me jumpy. "Headlines! Woman "truck driver" decapitates innocent pedestrian with passenger-side mirror. More on page three..." Plus, I know this is incredibly juvenile of me, but I just feel kind of, well, um, butch when I'm driving the truck by myself. I can't explain it, and I'm not proud of it, but unless I'm having an incredible hair day and have adequately shellacked my lips in cotton-candy pink gloss, I just feel bizarre in that big ol' rolling representation of all things dude. So if I have to be behind the wheel - folks, let me tell ya - Dude looks like a lady.

I never thought I'd say it, but I much prefer my beat-up little Escort.

And let's just face it - it's SO much easier to apply eyeliner, steer with my elbows, talk on the cellphone, and shift while drinking a Slim Fast when I'm in a car.

1 comment:

Laura said...

Ha! This entire post cracked me up! At least there were only FOUR oreos and it WAS a DIET soda. It could have been a dozen oreos and a Big Gulp of Grape Nehi. Think positive, sister.;P~L.