i declare war on this orange

for some reason i am finding it very difficult to peel this orange right now, i wish i knew its intentions in this world, so i could dash them. If it wants to be eaten, i would throw it away, and if its attempting to avoid being eaten, its not doing a good job sitting on a sale rack in the center of metro market... a dumb hiding place no doubt. i expect more from something smart enough to not rhyme with any other word in the american language.

in other news i am currently eating my way around the sandwich i brought eventually to leave just the 4 center bites that have the most meat and the most cheese. They will be enjoyed.

in news comepletly unrelated to food; today my concearns about the amount of time i waste at work organizing things on my desk into pretty piles and lining them up along my cubicle wall to make it look like i am really busy were eased when i walked by someones computer who had arranged their desktop icons into the shape of a bucyrus shovel. We arent talking like "see, those three stars in a row are his belt, and then the remaining 9 stars make up for his face, arms, legs, throwback kilt with a tear in it, spear, shield, pet ox, angered facial expression, and his defined abdomen" we are talking a 2-year-old that has never even seen a digger before would look at it and say "shovel."

i bring up a good point (theres noone else here that can do that, so pardon my self centered-ness) in that star formations are pure BS-sauce. as far as im concearned you could basically connect the dots to make just about anything, but the best they came up with is mythical creatures, not like a treasure map to nowhere or like "sam was here" or anything... we got a belt, belts are straight lines, congratulations.

I vote that if Favre comes back, everyone gets 20 bucks, an ice cream, and a 20 minute sit in the sauna alone so you can be comfortable about the nudity thing. Why? because thats about what i need if your going to toy with my heart like this every year for the next 67 years until your arms and legs are all litterally gone and sold on ebay. Like the black knight in monty python. The sad thing is that even brett favre's torso can get more accomplished than any of us can, combined. i guess thats what happens when you are built with 100% awesome.

goober of the day award (pronounced geu-bhurr) goes to the dude who was flushed on not once, twice, but 6 times while in the stall next to me by the automatic flusher. You litterally have to try and duck out of the way for the thing to flush even once, i cant imagine what he was doing because by the looks of his ankles, he wasnt going anywhere. It was relentless humor for me, i stuck around just to see if he could get the record, throwing my hands in the air with excitement for flushes 4, 5, and especially 6 because he got past 5, which is on to a whole new hand needed to keep count. I high fived the toilet paper and tried to contain my yells, as i didnt want to disturb him or jinx him on his way to glory. goober.

and for the most prestigous award of the day, the Martin Grammatica Award (Martin Grammatica, former NFL placekicker made famous more for the career ending injury suffered during a celebration over 1 point in an inconsequential game that was won by 19 than the fact that he was a professional athlete) of Excellence goes to Peter Francis Geraci. Theres enough worthless in that combination to make dirt look like diamonds.

talk to you later
jim "that was an awful methphor, sweet jesus" stemper