Friday, April 25, 2008

You can't get sick on your birthday and other lies.

Mashed potatoes dot com turns twenty-four today! Actually, blogs didn't exist twenty-four years ago because people were busy keeping quiet and writing their personal thoughts in a diary, where they probably belong. I awoke this morning with one of those colds that seemed to be my college roommate all four years of school. I had the very same cold for my entire collegiate education and heard it had stayed in the Midwest and found employment as a Human Resources Representative after I graduated. I suppose it came out to visit and spend the weekend with me. So, after watching the ticker-tape parade outside my apartment some of my friends had arranged in my honor until I got bored, I stopped at a convenience store and asked the sales clerk if they had any Sudafed. She points to the Sudafed PE, which everyone knows is a weak impostor because it doesn't actually contain psuedophedrine. "What's this?" I say. "I can't make meth with this." I finally showed up to work at the leisurely hour of, erm, 10ish, after sorting my stacks of gifts into piles based on their weight, constitution, and likelihood of containing gold. Not to shock anyone into cardiac arrest, but I don't plan on doing a hell of a lot of work today. What I am doing is leaving websites open on my computer monitor like a Wiki search of "Polymerase chain reactions" and "Methods for performing open-heart surgery" when I leave my desk so it looks like I've been unusually busy and ambitious.

Addendum: I'm 24 years old -- Fact or fiction?
Points to consider:
  • My pants are being held up by a safety pin, because the button fell off last year
  • I showed up to work fifty minutes late.
  • I'm currently listening to Guns 'N' Roses, which either means that I've been around a while or that I actually think it is still 1991.
  • Whether or not I will have a good day is actually pre-determined by if I am having a good hair day or not.
  • I opened up my presents before I even brushed my teeth this morning.
  • I snorted in laughter when the communal office Inbox received an email with the subject line "Brad was amazed at my trouser snake."

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