As an Aside
Today at "work" was both harrowing and rewarding, each in great amounts. My great acheivement of the day and perhaps my life was the construction of a 1.5 meter long rope out of elastic bands. It wasn't a half-ass rope either; in most places it was six rubber bands thick. I could have dangled a small child safely out the window using it. I am absolutely certain that at some point in the near future it will be used as a three-man slingshot. I plan to keep working on it until it is long and thick enough to rappell down the side of the building so that I may leave the office like spiderman.
Rubber-band rope-making is thirsty work so I stopped in to Brixton's for a coke and a cheeseburger on my way home. At least, a coke and a cheeseburger is what I ordered. What came was a cheeseburger and a mystery cola. There are many downsides to the amount of coke that I have consumed in my life (sleepless nights, caffeine addiction, tooth decay, premature death) but one of the benefits has been a highly tuned tounge for the detection and analysis of colas.
I am living proof that there are too many humans.
It's not so say that this mystery cola was bad, it was actually very good, but it sure wasn't coke or pepsi. I confronted the barmaid about this when paying my tab, and she was honestly surprised that I noticed. I briefly considered explaining to her that in most weeks I consume more coke than she could in the entire remainder of her life, even if she dedicated her every waking moment to it, but I decided against that. There was no need to frighten her with my tales of a wasted youth. In due process she informed me that they actually use Bravo Cola. As it turns out, the coke and pepsi distributors are (apparently) pretty uncomfortable to work with, while bravo will "bend over backwards" to help you stock their product. For the one gangly kid who notices the difference per year, it sounds like a pretty sweet deal.
As an aside, I have a new spirit-guide for writing, Diablo Cody. She won my respect with the phrase "missiles of gore," and won my heart with her staunch resolve to avoid ending a sentence with a preposition at all costs. When the prepositional ending can't be avoided, she seems genuinely pained, and that is (to me at least) the most adorable thing in the history of the universe. In case you haven't noticed, the blogging has been slowing down and growing crappier as of late, but taking a brief tour over her page reminded me of how fun writing can be, and how much better I wish I was at it. I also hope to use the term "apropos" more in my daily routine.
By the way, Tycho if you're reading this fear not; I will always have you as spirit-guide number two for your uncompromising vision of a future where a thesaurus is required to carry on even the most mundane of conversations. Someday I will find a way to use the word "extrapolation" while buying a soda. I will then point to the sky and say "That one was for you, buddy," even though you are not dead and not my buddy. The clerk selling me my soda will think that I am talking to God, or perhaps Eddie Guerrero.
Rubber-band rope-making is thirsty work so I stopped in to Brixton's for a coke and a cheeseburger on my way home. At least, a coke and a cheeseburger is what I ordered. What came was a cheeseburger and a mystery cola. There are many downsides to the amount of coke that I have consumed in my life (sleepless nights, caffeine addiction, tooth decay, premature death) but one of the benefits has been a highly tuned tounge for the detection and analysis of colas.
I am living proof that there are too many humans.
It's not so say that this mystery cola was bad, it was actually very good, but it sure wasn't coke or pepsi. I confronted the barmaid about this when paying my tab, and she was honestly surprised that I noticed. I briefly considered explaining to her that in most weeks I consume more coke than she could in the entire remainder of her life, even if she dedicated her every waking moment to it, but I decided against that. There was no need to frighten her with my tales of a wasted youth. In due process she informed me that they actually use Bravo Cola. As it turns out, the coke and pepsi distributors are (apparently) pretty uncomfortable to work with, while bravo will "bend over backwards" to help you stock their product. For the one gangly kid who notices the difference per year, it sounds like a pretty sweet deal.
As an aside, I have a new spirit-guide for writing, Diablo Cody. She won my respect with the phrase "missiles of gore," and won my heart with her staunch resolve to avoid ending a sentence with a preposition at all costs. When the prepositional ending can't be avoided, she seems genuinely pained, and that is (to me at least) the most adorable thing in the history of the universe. In case you haven't noticed, the blogging has been slowing down and growing crappier as of late, but taking a brief tour over her page reminded me of how fun writing can be, and how much better I wish I was at it. I also hope to use the term "apropos" more in my daily routine.
By the way, Tycho if you're reading this fear not; I will always have you as spirit-guide number two for your uncompromising vision of a future where a thesaurus is required to carry on even the most mundane of conversations. Someday I will find a way to use the word "extrapolation" while buying a soda. I will then point to the sky and say "That one was for you, buddy," even though you are not dead and not my buddy. The clerk selling me my soda will think that I am talking to God, or perhaps Eddie Guerrero.
posted by B-Boy Nothing at 3:08 PM
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