Excuses

I'm posting this so I can use it in my other blog.

So much for the meta-me.

The Dukes of Employability- A Response

In the few minutes that The Dukes of Employability post has been up there has been a huge buzz from people about my relationship with my gear shifter (not so much from the comments section, but ...elsewhere).

There is a commercial out right now for Cadillac that asks "When you turn your car on does it return the favor?" I think a more apt question for my situation would be, "Do you service your car or does it service you?"

The Dukes of Employability

When I was a kid I loved the Dukes of Hazzard. Those guys had a sweet orange car with the doors welded shut and no windows. They would slide across the hood of the car like BAs and peel out on the dirt roads. Little did I know at the time that with absolutely no money being spent on modifications for my car, I too am like the Dukes of Hazzard. My driver's side door doesn't open at all. It is a pretty sweet set up I must say. If the cops are after me I just whiz around to the passenger door, take out my keys, unlock the door, climb in and then try not to have a sexual rendezvous with my gear shifter as I smoothly slide into the drivers seat. Do I gun it? Heck yes I do!

I Love Republicans!

Controversial I know, but all my bosses are Republican so how could I NOT love the party. The one question I have pertains to the unofficial Republican motto: "Pull yourself up by your bootstraps." Well actually it is three questions.

1. What are bootstraps?
2. Why are poor people wearing boots?
3. Does it take athletic ability to pull off this feat of being on the ground, grabbing your bootstraps, and then being vertical? I imagine it does.

Anyway, those crazy Republicans always keep me thinking that's for sure!

Part V

"Since when did this town become so dammed convenient?," Pedro grinned looking up from his lunch.
"How so amigo?" I replied.
"I went out to lunch today and BOOM! there was a Taco Bell not three steps outside of this building. I glance to my right and BAM! Taco Johns was right next door! I thought I was just seeing things... you know like in a desert"
"A mirage of cheap Mexican?"
"Right, right, a mirage. Anyway I glanced over my shoulder just to make sure that there wasn't some practical jokers about and WHAM! Chipotle!"
"You think practical jokers built fast food Mexican joints to pull one over one you?" I asked.
"That's what they call breakfast, lunch, and dinner where I come from my friend."
Too afraid to ask which would constitute breakfast in this scenario I pressed on. "Pedro, have you seen anything suspicious lately?"
"Hmm, depends on what you mean by suspicious. Like I said, I did see the triple play of fine dining today at lunch."
"Lunch is what I'm talking about Pedro!" I said. "Someone has been stealing people's lunch and I need to get to the bottom of it."
"Now that you mention it I did see something really weird the other day," Pedro said, rubbing his chin.
"Go on..."
"Well, check this out. I was walking along, just checking the tp level in the bathrooms right? Well walking out of the 5th floor bathroom was an old guy. The thing was, he was wearing Nike Airs with the window that shows the air bubble and everything!"
"So he's old, he probably doesn't know that went out of style," I replied.
Pedro was unfazed. "What the heck does an old guy need Nike Airs for?! He's old! Plus why does he feel the need to rub it in everyone's face that he has an air pocket! Weird eh?"
"Okay thanks Pedro. Enjoy your triple layer burrito," I said ready to move to different avenues of investigation.
"Next time your lunch gets stolen...." Pedro called after me.
I turned to face him.
"Meet me outside, your choice of venues," Pedro said with a grin.

Part IV

Back when I started work at this massive conglomerate of a job there began a strange series of events that I can only describe now as fortuitous but at the time seemed dammed annoying. It first happened on a Tuesday. The lunch that I had thrown together that morning and deposited in the refrigerator at work was not where I left it. I rummaged around, opening and closing the crisper drawer a few times, but finding nothing resembling my peanut butter and bacon sandwich. It appeared that my lunch had been stolen. So off to the vending machine I went. What dropped down from its perch on row DD was the worst excuse for a chicken pot pie I had ever come across. It brought to my palate the dullness of chalk along with the scalding hotness of McDonald coffee.

This was not going to be an isolated incident however as lunch after lunch would disappear over the next few months. As a penance for the thief I would return to row DD of the vending machine and shovel down chicken pot pie after chicken pot pie. After one especially egregious pie I wondered if I was the only victim. If there was a thief about perhaps peanut butter and bacon sandwiches weren't the only thing they liked. And my lunch was only stolen once every couple of weeks. What did this person eat the rest of the time? Asking around I found an undercurrent of hatred and empty stomachs. I was not alone. Only one person could help me apprehend this cold lunch lover. I headed to the basement of the building looking for Pedro.

Employable Ben is Back!

Details forthcoming...