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It felt wet, right thruogh the paper, and very slimy and squishy too, as if one of the custodians had slathored the thing with liquid soap. Not a great feeling to have on your ass first thing in the morning. It was realy kind of gross. But I had no time to lounge arround the stall. I had allot of work to do. Also, in the afternoon, there was an inportant meeting I had to go to. (Yeah right).
A sence of smell on the other hand adds fifteen million aditional variations to these sencations of taste. The food rises off the tounge and floats up to the palate.
Thai food is pretty tasty but some of it is hot and spicy and allot of people on the Task Force were not prepaired for it. The only one eating with real gusto was Stu who like I said was fixatted on it.. Instead of sitting at his desk, he knelt by the cofee table near the window of his office and inhaled his lunch.
Allot of people crowded in the office, and I had to sit on the floor. Tilde who was there too made sure to sit next to me. She is one of these peoplle who whenevor she is in a meeting she never has anything intelligent to say and instead just is fixated on nodding and saying, "Yup! Yup! Yesireee! while any other person is talking just so she can be acepted and have people pay atettion to her. It is so pittiful.
Oh and by the way I forrgot to mention. Cathyann invited herself to join the Task Force. As Stu used his cofee table as a trough, it was her who sat at Stu's desk. She too is fixatted on allot of things. This week it hapens to be that favorite word of hers again:
There was a lady there on the Task Force with these deep set raccoon eyes who is prettey smart, and has no tollorence for ignorent loudmouths like Cathyann. She spoke up and repleid, "I play Scrabble and 'hijinks' is not anywhere near 50 points, and besiddes we are here to discuss the Task Force..."
Cathyann ignored and interruppted:
"You got the 'H.' Plus you got the 'J' and the 'K' going on, and mabye even the 'X' if y'all are playin' Canadian spelling rules," she declaired with an authoratative scowl and wagging her fat index finger at the eight or so peoplle crowded into Stu's office who all surely wished they were somwhere else right now. Instead of listening to Cathyann.
"'HIJINKS' is danm near the most perfect word in the English langauge," she said in a subdewed, wistful voice gazing ceilingward in a way that was detached yet authorritative, intelligent yet deranged, and firm yet blubbery; a bit like Brando in Apocalypse Now, I suppose.
"That's cause 'Hijinks' got it all." With a loud grunt, the seat flung foward, her feet hit the floor, her elbows landed hard on Stu's desk, and she faced the Task Force shaking her fat fist.
"Whimsy. Mischeif. And a bitty-ol' small touch of evil. That THAR's yer 'HAH-jinks'."
Raccoon Eyes frowned and looked pissed. She is in charge of runnin reports on profits, (of which we didnt have none), and just as she openned her mouth to speak, Cathyann cut her off agian.
"Whoops. Y'all hear that? If you DIDN'T then y'all better hold yer nose! BWAHAHAHA!"
Cathyann turned to Tilde, "Yo, Tilde, girlfreind: Stop sittin' thar lookin' so dumb and nodding like one o'them souveineir-baseball-bob-head-dolls, and hand me that thar Cyberblop Anal Report sittin' thar on the shelf -- I mean ANNUAL Report -- little slip o'the tounge thar -- and as y'all's about to find out, a slip o'SUMPTIN ELSE: WHOA, that's stanky! BWAHAHAHA!"
Cathyann sat up in the chair, assuming an eerily similor-to-Granfather-Clinton-on Esquire pose, exept just one hand was on her knee while to disperse the fart with the othor hand she waved the Annual Report arround in front of her hips which were now bucking foward in a most vulgor manner, hoarsely braying, "Whoo-EEE!
"This here lil'ol' skinny book fulla pictures of twenny-five year old Vice Presidents in them little black eyeglasses and a whole lotta charts in the back full o' red zeroes done found itseff another valuable use: FLUFFIN' MAH ASS! BWAHAHAHA! BWAHAHAHA! BWAHAHAHA!"
Over the loud bleating raspy yuks somone near me whispored "How'd she get in here?" and I heard Tilde whisper back that Cathyann was there cause she worked in the cafeterria. And that anytime food is part of a Task Force Initiative, (in other words when Stu runs them) Cathyann had to be there.
His face reddened in shame. He withdrew his stained snout, bit his lip and started to appollogize for his behavior in repentent stammering oinks.
A DRESS UP DAY?
Ever since he got stock options Stu has become "Mister Cyberblop." Come to think of it, there was never a problem with HIS morrale for crying out loud. He LOVED all this crap.
Also, being in Internet Marketing for so long has begun to effect his porcine brain. Do you know how when some people lie so much they actualy start believing the lie? Stu was so hopelessly optimistic, (allways was, you know), that he was SURE that a dumb thing like a company-wide Dress-up day woud boost morale. So full of dishonest hype, that he honestly beleived his own hype.
Okay, I admit it, optimism pays off, I supose. Stu has allways profited in his career and in freindships with others dispite his appearance. He is populor, well-liked, and quite acomplished for being so young and I will also admit that I am jeallous of him.
"Oh, I second the motion!," chirped Tilde, "Let's have a dress-up day, LET'S!"
And so it is hard to admit you are jealous of others. To humbel yourself and vocalize out loud all alone what you secretly hope that others are also feeling in the same way as you by the legion: That somwhere, somehow, someone is always making more money, having more fun, gettin more laid, (in my case, there is no "less" to compare with this "more", only "zero" and "never"), and that person is allways Stu.
Please scroll along if you already know the story. If not, here it is: I grew up with Stu and I was actualy there when it hapened. To make a long storey short we were in the Boy Scouts camping out in Big Basin and Stu got up in the middol of the night to take a leak. And about 20 feet away he saw the ethereal glowing of a giant bluish green entity steaming in the foggy moonlight ammidst the dark mystery of the redwoods.
Stu, ever the optimist, thoght it was God delivering to him a giant blueberry ice and so he put his tongue and snout on it and suffored an ice burn. It was not what he expected and instead was a lump of blue ice from undorneath an airplane restroom, an item that somtimes shakes loose from 35,000 feet and falls to earth. The blue is from the toilet wator disinfectant and right beneath this icy blue shell it is allways a mass of paper and frozen crap. Anyway Stu was STUCK and along with the massive chunk of ice had to be airlifted out of there with the friggin thing still glued to his face. OK that is the story. (Sorry Stu)
While sharing that story (again) makes me feel bettor, it also gets me thinking: Stu's boundless optimmism sure did get him in troubel. But at least he is willing (not like me, a wilting petunia in many ways) to take a chance, and stick his snout out in life's arena.
Back to the task force meeting...
As people filed out of Stu's office, I ovorheard Raccoon Eyes tell Bob from Purchasing who is also on the Task Force that "Walter Miller is not a Team Player."
But little did they know the meeting was goingto end anyway. There was only one thing that coud of ended such a horroble meeting.
"Hey Walt, shut the door, we have to talk privately," he said to me. Though Stu is a "team player", supprisingly he is one of those people who never leaves for the fire drill which is somthing you can really get in allot of troubel for, at least around here.
He pokes in his little streamlined face and hollored, "Everyone out of the building!" Cathyann blocked the doorway hollored back, "Whah dont you just KISS MAH ASS!"
She planted one hand on her hip and defiantly swaggored on one knee till her naked bare belly, protruding above, over, outward, and finaly cascading below the waistband of her microscopically immodest Britney Spears/Jay Low hiphugger hotpants, hung, fleshy, heavy and low like a mass of rain-soaked kudzu flopping over the rim of an old barn windowsill, and rippled to the twitching rhythem of her bouncing leg like a giant shuddoring jiggly pink gelatinnous sugarfree dessert.
"I DARE yo skinny ass to try to git past THIS THANG," she growled at him, as her belly waved and shook like an omminous cobra about to bite.