Monthly Archives: February 2005

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We all know that LeeAnn at Maison Fromage rocks, because we all have secret crushes on her. I know I’m not the only one. But, I’m ready to take my private fawning over The Cheesemistress into the public realm.

Reasons why LeeAnn is my New Favorite Best Friend:

1) It’s all about the cheese.
2) She has John Wayne’s picture in her bathroom.
3) Sheep On A Stick.
4) Meryl. Stroop.
5) The red hair drives me wild.

Clearly, the reasons are ENDless, but the pi�ce de r�sistance came to me via e-mail from Herself. It turns out she is a fan of the Foot Flushing pictures and went out of her way to take this shot, while *on vacation* in San Diego. She thought of ME while she was on vacation!! This new love knows no bounds! She will be the subject of all future love poems/haikus/cut ups that I write!

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I now have proof that my mother isn’t the only one who calls up and tries to pressure her child into taking home furnishings! Dr. Evil just called Mr. Capp and said that his brother had gone to a Board of Education surplus auction. Apparently, the brother is now flush with school desks and lockers and needs to offload some.

Dr. Evil: How many do you want?

Mr. Capp: I don’t want any of them, but thanks for the offer.

Dr. Evil: You need those lockers, I’m sure of it.

Mr. Capp: No, I don’t. And if I’d gone to some surplus auction and bought a load of crap, you’d have said it was a bad idea.

Dr. Evil: These desks and lockers are different. I’ll just have your brother drop off several at your house on Tuesday.

Mr. Capp: Please don’t. I don’t want anything dropped off at the house on any day. I’m trying to get by with less stuff, not more.

Dr. Evil: But, the lockers themselves would be a great conversation piece.

Mr. Capp: Mother, my whole HOUSE is a conversation piece!!

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I thought I’d leisurely go through my mail basket this morning, throw out all the junk and read the weekly paper. One letter had all the hallmarks of junk mail: an attempt at looking official by the use of Olde English Font for the return address; no stamp, just a “Presorted First Class” designation; and the ever popular words “Official Business” emblazoned on the front. I thought it was just another pitch to sell me life insurance.

Generally, I open junk mail because some of it turns out to be invoices for obscure stuff Mr. Capp has purchased. Instead of an invoice, though, I was greeted with, “Your name has been drawn by random selection, and you are being considered for jury service in the United States District Court”. I have to fill out a paper and return it within ten days (or else what, I’m not sure).

Now, I like jury duty as much as the next person, but the timing is bad. When I got called up for Circuit Court jury duty, I had a blast… I got countless numbers of PAID days off from work, got to walk up to the Courthouse, chit chat with the locals, loaf in the comfortable chairs, eventually get told the case had been settled, collect my jury lunch money and walk back home where I napped the rest of the afternoon. Sweet! Plus, Circuit Court mailed me a just paycheck just for showing up, which made it one of the better two months of my life. Not working + double paycheck + loafing = my idea of a good day.

Anyway, I just KNOW that I’ll actually get called after June 30, when I don’t even have a job. In which case, what’s the point? If I’m already AT home, it’s just not the same.

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Phase Two (Saturday) of Terminal Inventory took a strange turn when The Boss decided to come in. I didn’t have him scheduled to work, but he walked in with two dozen Krispy Kreme doughnuts, so I couldn’t very well turn him away. That was my first mistake, because he was moderately angry that Phase One had gone so well without him yesterday! Hours later, he apologized to me and said he should’ve had me running inventory years ago. That’s a nice thought, but I was salaried back then and wouldn’t have pulled down this mad overtime pay.

In funnier news, a bloggable moment came out of a count of the Crumpler Bags.

Me: Hey, who put the wrong stock number on the Scrote?

SBC {unfamiliar with the product line names}: What did you just say?

Me {holding up the bag}: The Scrote, man. Who put the wrong stock number on the Scrote?

SBC: Is that what it’s called?

Me: Here, SBC… do you want to touch the Scrote?

SBC {backing away}: Ummm….

CK: The Scrote is a nice bag. It holds a load.

The Boss: I actually ordered the Scrote for myself, because I didn’t have one. But this one didn’t suit my needs, and that’s why it’s in stock.

Me: Was it the wrong size for you?

The Boss: The Scrote was too large, so I had to get the LollyBag instead.

Ha! Anyway, if anyone’s looking for more of the Crumpler product line, just know that we’re currently out of Brian’s Hot Tub.

**Update**

More Crumpler Bag humor during the recounts!

KIA: What’s a John Thursday?

CK: Isn’t that like a Scrote?

KIA: I don’t even know what a Scrote IS!

Me: I believe you. I know where you can find a Scrote.

KIA: Oh, I see. The Scrote is over near the Sheep Scarer bags.

I think I want to go work for Crumpler, just so I can take customer phone calls about the product line.

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Phase One (Friday Night) of Inventory is almost complete. We’re only missing $157,488.87 worth of stuff. Which isn’t too bad, because we started off missing half a million dollars worth of stuff. The weirdest is all the extra items that have appeared from parts unknown.

The Angry Old Woman didn’t work Inventory because she (literally) had an aneurysm, so she went off for surgery and won’t return for several weeks. Ms. Drug Seeker didn’t work Inventory because… well, I don’t know why. But I don’t care, because every thing she counted this afternoon had to be REcounted, since it was ALL WRONG. SBC didn’t work Inventory because he’s been out sick all week with the flu/stress/freaking-out-over-losing-his-job-he’s-had-for-years, etc.

So, without the anxiety-ridden people (CK notwithstanding), Inventory turned out not to be as big a pain as it could’ve been. The Almighty Cthulhu was in charge of music and everyone was happy with his selection of choice tracks. We all return tomorrow morning at 9-ish to try to find everything else and reconcile why we’re over or under on hundreds of stock items.

For now, I’ll go home and try to go to bed early so I can get some rest for tomorrow. But I already know I’ll lay there, rewriting my resume in my head, and ending up fetching my iBook to look for job openings online “for a little while”… and then I’ll look at the clock and it’ll be 1 in the morning and I still won’t be able to sleep, so I’ll fix some tea and read Ulysses until it stops making sense. THEN, I’ll be able to sleep.

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Today begins our annual Taking of the Inventory at work. I guess “annual” is a bit of a misnomer now… maybe we should rename the 2005 count as the Terminal Inventory.

We’ll all break bread together before the bitter end, but we skipped a communal lunch today since a few folks were in moods.

I’m off to count!

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I was getting change for a dollar out of the cash drawer and came across a quarter with a date of 1971. WTF? They made twenty-five cent pieces back then? And out of METAL?

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No mashed cars made their way into my path for Wreck of the Week today, so I got a picture of a small animal skull that was in my front yard this morning. While all my neighbors are happily celebrating the birth of new grass in their yards, all I get is a fresh growth of moss over the layer of dirt. The moss coordinates well with the neverending supply of twigs, acorns and leaves dropped from the massive oak tree. And now, I have skulls to add more emphasis that my yard can’t support life.

You know how people put up signs that tell you the name of their estate? I’m going to name my yard “Deadlawn” and get a nice sign for it to make it feel better.