Archive for July, 2003
Ew
I’ve just experienced a new horror in cubicle-farm world: gas. Someone near me is clearly not feeling well and their silent emissions are pure, vaporous evil. It’s clearly not bad enough that I get to deal with cell phones ringing unattended and the occasional cow-orker that feels the need to stand while making phone calls.
Robbed
Yesterday my car stereo was stolen while I was parked in the BART parking lot. The bastards didn’t even have the decency to break the window: they punched the lock with a screwdriver, ruining the lock and door panel. Doesn’t it seem insane in an age of advanced material science and mechanical engineering that my door is susceptible to the same brute-force attack that has worked for decades? Doesn’t an engineer or product manager notice this is a problem? Granted, I shouldn’t really be surprised: only in the last 2 years did someone finally design a cap to solve the “drippy, watery ketchup-stuff” problem. And that’s a problem that has been making buns soggy for eons.
Separated at birth?
From the creepy file: when using a whiteboard, my handwriting is almost identical to Nick’s.