"Sounds like a boy band name," I told him as I was patching together a hobo Employees Only sign out of recycled paper and using tape from a tape gun in lieu of laminating it.
"More like rock & roll band," he replied, as he ate a handful of Runts he stole from the candy machine. The warehouse guys know all the right ways to jiggle the candy machine to get it to drop a handful of candy, rather than coughing up the $0.25.
"God dammit Stop eating those Runts. You are supposed to pay for those." In my fury, the roll of tape popped off the tape gun and rolled away on the floor, pulling a few feet of tape off the roll as it scurried like a tumbleweed in wind.
"Well look at that. Seems like I'm a tape gun wizard today," I said as I went to retrieve the tape.
"Ahh! I shrieked. "Tape Gun Wizard! That's my band name!"
"What kind of music will you play?" he asked.
"We will be conceptual. All black attire with neon sunglasses. And we won't look at the audience, but away to the rafters as we play our old school Casio keyboards like Ross on Friends."
He laughed and then launched into a story about a British comedy about a guy starting a band. I don't remember the show or the details, because, as I told him, "I don't like British humor."
Actually, what I said was "Don't tell E--, but I don't like British humor." E-- is from the UK and actually quite funny. So really, I just don't like British television comedies. E-- makes me laugh daily.
He was shocked. SHOCKED. And appalled.
"Don't worry. I have a big love for British dramas. Oh! And Daniel Craig!"
"James Bond? You love James Bond but nothing else?"
"Well and Jane Austen," I said.
I was called away from our conversation. A few hours later, I came back to my office to find a picture of Daniel Craig set as the screensaver on the computer.
Not to be outdone, I wrote "British Steel" on a post-it and stuck it to the screen, a squiggly black arrow pointing at Daniel Craig's crotch.
It was shortly after this that I got a text message informing me that my dog may or may not have been pepper sprayed.
Mondo has been quite the little butthead this week. Once it started raining, he decided that pooping on the towels in the laundry room and on the kitchen floor was much better than going outside and getting wet.
And then he decided that he should eat a bunch of little blue gel beads from an exploded kids toy. And Nerf gun bullets. This prompted me to briefly consider starting a Tumblr blog called "Tumbld from My Butt" in order to post the things he poops daily.
And then he decided that he should welcome our new roommate AE to the fold by peeing on her feet in excitement.
So hearing that he'd been pepper sprayed was alarming, but not shocking.
When we first moved into this house, very first week, the dogs ran out the screen door and scared the bajeebus out of the mail lady. I had to go down to the post office and sign an official letter saying we would keep the dogs locked up.
Yesterday, MK was taking the trash out and left the main door open but the screen closed. The screen doesn't latch properly.
At this time, the mail lady arrives and the dogs, fulfilling the divine prophecy read in the stars a billion years ago, did their duty, busted through the door, and gave chase.
She retaliated by pulling her pepper gun and sprayed in the general direction of the dogs.
They survived and will live to scare the mail lady again. However, I'm now sitting here wondering if we got our mail delivered today and if we will ever receive it again. Because I'd really like to vote this year.
But I digress.
After the excitement of band names and dog shenanigans, I ended up working late and then heading home in the suddenly rainy and dark night.
I stopped at Safeway and had the glorious luck to hear the following conversation.
Clerk: "Here is your change and this is a coupon to save another 10 percent. Just go to our website and sign up for these benefits and you can save 10 percent on your next purchase of these brands." She then tries to hand the coupon to the man, who looks like an absent minded professor in a news boy cap and tweed.
Man: "Oh, I don't want this. I don't want the government tracking my grocery purchases."
Clerk: "Oh, no one tracks your purchases, you save money and it is free."
Man: "They will know everything I buy and use it against me."
Clerk: (blank faced and confused)
Man: "Can you imagine if they'd tracked Anne Frank's grocery purchases? They would've found her family sooner."
Clerk: "Uh. Thank you. Have a nice day."
While this was probably the funniest thing I witnessed all day, the worst happened a few hours before, at work, when I was informed of the worm suicides.
Worms.
Gross and double gross.
One of the great things about the company I work for is their commitment to reusing, recycling, and re-purposing everything they can. This includes composting on site.
I've tried very hard to ignore the giant stack of compost bins as I know they contain a billion worms.
But yesterday morning I get this news:
W: Just so you know, there are lots of worm carcasses on the ground near the compost bin.
Me: What! Shut your mouth. (I begin mentally plotting how to go home sick).
W: Yes. We think they are either hungry or there are too many of them in the bucket. But either way, they are crawling out and falling to the ground. There are a bunch of them dried up on the ground.
Me: Please tell me you are joking.
W: No.
Me: I have to go home now.
So...he informs you of the worm carcasses, but doesn't clean them up? Ew...
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