Thursday, November 18, 2010

Are You My Apple?



**(Again, this is an old post that I am importing to this new site. Thanks for hanging in there while I clean-up the blogosphere).**



Okay, you’re gonna find out two things about me in this blog...(neither of them should surprise you.)

1) I’m a jerk.
2) I break my own rules. As a rule. (Wait, then doesn’t that mean that I don’t break my own rules?)

Okay, so I happen to work with a bunch of people who have not too much respect for anyone else in our office. I mean, they’re nice enough, and they speak to eachother respectfully, and they don’t screw you over at work with stuff that’s not your responsibility...no, they’re not THAT kind of disrespectful.

They are a WHOLE OTHER LEVEL of disrespect...a level where people who are THIS disrespectful are reserved a special suite in Hell, along with child molesters, fire starters, and people who stick chewed up gum under conference room tables.

They own the kind of disrespect that makes it okay in their mind to eat someone else’s food out of the office fridge.

I know, I know---I’ll give you a minute to collect your jaw from the floor...it truly is a HORRIFYING sin, so for those of you who are prone to fainting, I’ll wait until you’ve collected your smelling salts before I continue.






....you ready yet?




Okay, cool. On with it.


So, my office peeps have this condemning habit of eating other people’s stuff in the office fridge, that they KNOW isn’t their own food.I put up with it at first, because I was new, and didn’t want to make waves (wait, that doesn’t sound like me.) Ohhh yeah, that’s right, I put up with it at first because I was blinded by the giddyness of having a new job that I didn’t care if they stored monkey poop in that fridge of ours.

But, the honeymoon phase has ended, and I have grown tired of people eating/drinking my stuff.
So, like the jerk I am...I made a sign.

Now, you all know those people in your office, ’cuz every office has at least one person like this...THE SIGN MAKER.

They make signs for everything...they put instructions on the fax machine so you don’t have to "bother" them and ask how to work it; they make signs on the light switches, reading "Please Shut Off At Night"; they make signs on their office doors that say "Please Knock First"; they make little mini-sticker-signs on ALL of their pens, so no one will steal them from them. You know who I’m talking about.


Yeah, I know, I hate those sign-makers, too.

But, I have now had to join forces with the Sign-Makers, and make a sign of my own.

A few months ago, there was an "episode" in my office, involving one particular can of Diet Coke ( I won’t bore you with the story here, because most of my poor friends had to already listen to me have verbal diarrhea about it for a week), but anyway, if you know me, you know that you can do just about anything to me and we’ll still be friends (I’m resiliant like that), but if you touch my Diet Coke, it is WAR.

And not the kind of friendly war where I send my troops over to your country to fight, but in their free time they pass out Beanie Babies and immunization shots to all the local kids.

No no.

I mean the kind of war where in my soldiers free time, they are encouraged to pass out infested blankets and pee on national monuments. Yyyeah. THAT kind of war.


So, like I said...someone messed with my Diet Coke. Okay, it’s on.

After the battle between my coworker and myself had ended, I had to submit to my hatred of sign-makers, and join in their endeavor...I had to make a sign.

That sign was created 3 months ago, and all has been well so far.

Until today.

Today, I’m hungry.

And I can’t remember if that red apple in there is mine or not.

I think it’s mine, because I have the tendancy to not eat my entire lunch, so I’ll always have a yogurt or fruit leftover to have for breakfast the next day.

And I also think it’s mine, because I know for a fact that at home right now, there is an entire bag of Fuji apples that have that same "4131" sticker on them.

BUT, I’m not 100% sure.

And I am 100% hungry.

Now, I don’t know how the Food Sticker Industry works. Do ALL Fuji apples everywhere bear the "4131" stamp? Because if so, then I can’t touch the apple...the risk is too great that it belongs to someone else.

BUT---If the "4131" is signifying a particular batch of apples, then the chances are HUGE that it is, in fact, MY apple, and that I can eat it without breaking my own established rule.


Ohhhhhhhhh, what would Snow White do?


Would she eat it?


Heck yes she would! That hungry little snipe ate apples offered by a crotchety, wart-riddled, stranger in the middle of the woods!

I know there’s supposed to be one angel on my left shoulder, and one little devil on my right. Okay, check! I’ve got that going for me.

BUT, they both look pretty hungry. I mean- what kind of person would I be if I starved an imaginary angel?


Then again, what kind of person would I be if I fed an imaginary devil?

OH 4131.....WHAT DO YOU MEAN? WHAT DO YOU SIGNIFY?


Okay, I’ve made my decision...

If that apple sticker had "666" on it...then I TOTALLY wouldn’t eat it.

BUT, it doesn’t.

So I’m chowing down.


And possibly breaking my own rule.

Or possibly adhering to my own rule.

Who knows. But I’m hungry. And when a big girl is hungry, we can rationalize anything...even stealing (or not stealing) fruit that isn’t ours (or really is ours.)


I’m heading to the fridge....


Cellulite and Tell You Right,



Andy

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