The world fammous

Walter Miller's Homepage(TM)

The original "gooey interface"

The Summer 2001 Update

Page 25 of 50

Tilde is an anoying crybaby. She injects herself in peoples lives and she craves atention like a small pouting child. And this a womon who is close to fifty years old. We have the The world's most disfunctionol Boss-and-Subordinate rellationship in the whole world. Tilde knows that I too have codeppendent qualities. She comes to me under the guise of helping me with my problems when what she realy wants is for me to help her with hers.

And I alredy told her I'd help her with her danm Budget, like, way back on Page 15 of this update

I was very glad that I passed the disk off to Stu. He is the one who had her danm budget now.

"Oh, WAAlter," she warbled, "Its not just my budget. My computor is ruined! The budget spreadsheet is just the worst of my probloms. All my forecasts, presentattions, everything..."

It turned out that the virus realy wrecked her computer bad. Plus no one else in the company had copies of the speciel Customer Rellation software she needed: only her, and her hardrive was toast.

"Oh dear! I can rebuild it all, but thats two thousend dollars worth of software, and like a fool I dont have the licences anymore!" and by now her mouth was just blobburing in pittiful weeping and drooling all over the place. She told me that also Mr. Peckushay and the Lady Who Screams at Evereyone told her to finish the danm report by the deadline or else she'll lose her job.

I make a promise

I am an iddiot. I am a fool. Indeed: I am a horse's ass. I cannot help myself, so I help others. And, so God help me, as much as I cannot bear this fact about myself, eash day I realize it is true: I AM TILDE.

Yes its a fact: I AM TILDE. Or, more acurrately, I am worse than Tilde. Why do I say that? Becuase I promised the anoying little pain in the ass hag that I'd do all I coud to help her. I dont know how, but I prommised it. I promised to stop by her desk by tomorow, the latest. She seemed elated and I am grateful she left without tryin to hug me or nothing.

As soon as she was gone my gut was about to bust and stumbling across the newly washed mensroom tiles I practialy flew thruogh the air like "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" toword my favorite toilet stall. That is how bad I had to go. The night before I had flung some chocolate pudding spattor on it as usual, but this time added a few little extra dribbles here and there. I am no Jackson Pollock, but living with Granfather all these years has inspired me with a mental library of good idea varriations on what what looks like an authenticaly "used" toilet: just enough to make potential suitors reject it and move on to the next bowl thank you very much, but not so ovorly stained as to gross someone out enough to call the freakin Janitor.

I was really in for a big GROSS suprise this time

It is here and now I place my standard Walter Miller's Home Page warning. Please skip the next scene if you wish to avoid bein grossed out or if your at work eatin lunch.

First, before entering the stall, I quickley glance thru the door crack to see if its occupado. I did not see anyone, and the door was not locked, and so I swung it open, and saw what I saw at the same time I heard savage annimal grunts.

"Walter!" creid Stu, who was knelt on the floor so I coudnt see him. At first I thoght he was leaned over the bowl barfing. But as he wheeled arround to face me, I saw his tounge darting in and out of his thin pig lips very fast, and there clearley smeared on the front of his stout, a swath of sticky dark brown. What a hell of a scene. All that was missing was the ovorly loud shocking chord of gothic organ music crasshing in out of nowhere on the instant our eyes met.

"It...Its not what you think, dude," he stammored weakly, pulling himself upright.

"Oh God," I heard myself groan.

"Walt, you wont beleive this, but its chocolate: Chocollate pudding."

My heart wanted to say: "Stu how COUD you!" but my stomoch wanted me to barf. And so thats what I did, right in the bathroom sink. Stu sidled up to me and frowned while quickly chattering he treid to explain.

"Walter, you know my sence of smell is back. And I have a GREAT sence of smell. It's chocolate pudding I've found here. There was some here yesterday, too. I havent tasted it since I was 12. It's exillerating. It's glorious. I dont know HOW or it got on that toilet seat, but it did."

He contineud chattoring as I heaved more and more. It was now I reallized that when the pudding was missing last time I was here, the stickey stuff I'd sat my bare ass on wasnt soap at all, but pig spit.

"Coud it have fallen from the drop ceiling?" Stu chirped extattically, his snout sweeping upward and perpendiculor to the foam tiles above, "Is this dark sweet treasure chocolaty manna from heaven? I don't know. But I'm not making this up. You gotta believe me, buddy."

In my revullsion I was able to squeak out, "But Stu! What about the GERMS."

I turned arround and saw Stu once agian knelt by the crapper. He was sniffing it. The disk-like front of his snout, on which his two pig nostrills were centered, twitched extremly fast, as if with a sustained shivoring palsy. All the little hairs on the snout stump danced, as Stu, like a bloodhound dog, ran his rapidly quivorring snout up and down in a circulor motion all around the surface of the toilet seat, barely a milimeter above it, but without once touching it.

"That's just the thing, Walter. There ARE no germs. Trust me, I'd be able to smell 'em. Why, this toilat seat is cleaner than the dishes at a fine hotel. All there is on this toilat seat is chlorinated disinfectant, and -- now I can't explian it -- pudding! Chocollate pudding: 'The Chieftan o'the Puddins'! Isnt that in an old Burns poem somwhere?"

I told him, "No, that is haggis Burns was talkin about."

I cleanned myself up

Over and ovor I slathored my face with foamy green liqoud soap. Then I took a wad of papper towels and wiped my yak off the sink. All the while as Stu contieund to lap at the pudding.

Once the rich starchey dessert was all gone it began to sink in to Stu what an awfull thing he was doing. He took a deep breath and regained a small ammount of sanity.

"What am I doing?! WHAT am I doing?!," he trembled. This is sooo embarasing, man," Stu mumboled looking straight down at the granite squares of the trendey corporate restroom floor. "The last time I was this embarased -- embarrased in front of someone I care about -- not a client or anything -- was, ...oh, I dunno. Maybe once as a teenager when my mom walked in my room and cought me, you know, tanning the ol' scrapple."

I did not know what to say

Stu is my freind and all and I was more houmilliated for him than he was for himself. I tried to change the subject.

"Um, how is Tilde's budget doing?", I asked, "Remember? I gave it to you on disk, and you told me you'd take care of it."

Stu's face brightenned up from contrition to posible redemption. Cheerfuly he said, "Walter, how'd you like a new laptop?"

I repleid with irony that I didnt yet break the one I had. But Stu told me that he coud get me a really neat one, worth mabye three and a half grand with a DVD playor and a couple Gig of RAM. For a geek like me that is just mindboggoling.

"This woud be YOUR laptop, Walt: Not Cyberblop's. I can get them at cost. I'll even finance it for you."

Stu is running a busines on the side

At Cyberblop you are not aloud to run a busniess on the side. Especialy not on company property. But Stu always had at least two or three personol projects going on that no one was suposed to know about. One of them was the Walter Miller's Homepage Cartoon Project, of which he was one of the partners. (You dont actualy think we PAY for all those ninety-minute, aftor-hours conferrence calls out to Hollywood, do you? Beleive me when I tell you that Cyberblop does. And might I say, Stu's expense account is a larger, greator, and much more ellabborate work of fiction than anything Ive ever pulled off in the last few years.)

Stu told me that we still had some money hangin arround from the cartoon project, and since the cartoon wasnt going anywhere right now, he had to blow the cash by the end of the Quartor, or else he had to return it to the venture capitollists who funded it.

Well Stu's alredy padded his pigsty with various peices of hardware and a couple of nice trips to New york and L.A. But getting me a new laptop at cost I thoght was REALLY nice of him.

A new laptop with all the works.