I realized today what my real position is within my company. It’s not the title they hired me as, no sir. It’s a position which I hope a few of you can sympathize, gentle readers.

You see, my office is right next to the break room. Inside said breakroom sits the coffee maker which brews your standard office cup-o-crap which all of us who have sold out to the man must condition ourselves to drink.

Like most of America, I nurse a rather obscene caffine addiction- so I know the score when it comes to refilling the pot. As Terry Tate says, “you kill the joe, you make some mo’.” But someone has found a way to defile that creed. They have perfected the art of leaving a half a cup in the carafe.

Almost every time I turn the corner to face the machine, I am confronted with a pot in this unholy condition. It stares back, mocking me in defiance- stealing my manhood. I make an entire pot, again, like so many times before- just for half a cup.

Shortly afterward I hear footsteps scampering to the pot and stealing away. I hurry around the corner to catch the culprit, but there’s nothing, nothing but a freshly violated carafe. That and a touch of laughter in the distance.

Which has made rather clear what my position is. I, gentle readers, am… (and let me tell you, it has taken a loooong time to admit)…
(more…)

You’ve seen those bracelets, right? The yellow ones that EVERYone is wearing? I’m sure you have. They say “What Would Lance Armstrong Do” or something.

This morning in the breakroom, as everyone was pouring their coffee, etc…

KAM: Hey Brett, what is with that yellow bracelet?

BRETT: Oh this? (starts explaining)

ME: (piping up from my office) You’re such a poser, Brett. You don’t even have cancer!

Some times I make myself so proud.

Ever come out of the bathroom and have to fight the urge to tell your boss or co-workers just how great your crap was?

Be honest.

Serious. I had this near-mystical crap the other day and caught myself riiiiight before announcing it in a meeting.

My office is kept at a constant 7 degrees below zero.

I just cracked a nipple.

Another reason I need a camera phone.

There’s someone on my floor who is an artist. He doesn’t work in a conventional medium, though- He’s a pioneer. He’s been assembling a work I will title, “The Booger Mosaic.”

Each time he uses the urinal, he puts a booger on the wall to the right of it. Big ones, too. The kind that line the whole side of your nostril, and usually have a gooey tail.

I’m not sure if he delicately places each one in a particular order, or if he just flicks them all willy nilly. His last work developed for quite a while before it was finally taken down by a custodian (obviously not an eye for art). But, sure as your morning dump he was at it again almost immediately. The man is dedicated.

If I had a camera equipped with a phone, rest assured gentle readers you would be looking at it right now. For now you’ll just have to use your imagination. Enjoy.