Recognition Day was celebrated this afternoon during the lunch hour. Everyone huddled together on the brick patio 'neath the shady limbs of giant oaks. The smiles. The pizza. The beer. The backwash-level of tequila in it's sad bottle. And the cake. Oh the cake. You could see in it's simple white frosting and it's poorly-done hand-letteredness it's excitement, knowing that within minutes of being de-boxed, it would soon get to nuzzle against the fleshy face of some Mindcomet employee. The box was opened and heads turned to see if anyone was being cakeplowed today. No. A move was made to get Eric to do one since today is his last day. The cake seemed to rise a little fluffier in this possibility. All eyes went to Eric, even cake eyes. But no, Eric did not want to cakeplow. The cake heard this and sunk lower in it's flimsy white Publix rectangular box, even lower than it had been when it first arrived. 
Olga spent her youth as a dairy maid's stool. This is where she first found interest in the art of massage, carefully watching dairy maids deftly handle many a cow's udder. She quickly enrolled at the Stockholm College of Natural Health and Cheese Making, where she majored in shiatsu with a minor in curd pressing. In her spare time, Olga enjoys listening to ABBA and goat herding.
Sven grew up deeply entrenched in the Polka scene, and spent many years as a pipe organ player's bench. Mesmerized by his fellow accordion player's movements, Sven was inspired to become a masseuse. He eventually abandoned his first love of music and enrolled at the Institute for Herring Pickling and Theraputic Massage. He graduated with honors and holds his school's record for fastest herring pickler (37 jars in 5 minutes.) Sven enjoys skiing naked and climbing to the tops of mountains to yell "Ricola" in his spare time.
Although some may disagree, in our highly classified society, I think there are only two classifications that matter. Those who have innies and those who have outies. It is an age old struggle between people who have to clean a useless little cavity and those who have funny looking bellies. Here's a little song for you innies out there.
Yesterday was Talk Like a Pirate Day and nobody told me. Nobody told anyone. I read about it last night and felt pangs of guilt run through me like a steak knife down a side of beef. It just passed us as if Pirate Day were some unknown, unimportant, random day that doesn't require pomp and a little bearded circumstance. 
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[Fridays are international, yo!] |
Today, music was brought back into the office for the first time since our big move. The official kind that comes straight from the top. Literally!! MindComet is now equipped to rock your socks off. (Or beat you incessantly with a hi-hat or cymbal, depending on your taste in music.) We've got speakers hanging from ceiling. Yes, the ceiling. "So what?" you say. Well, speakers hanging from the ceiling are a big hairy deal to me.
