I woke up absurdly early this morning, mainly because I went to bed fairly early. I had one of 'those' days at work, and when I got home I had a nip of rum and tuned out the world. Not that my job is particularly bad, I suppose with any occupation you will have you're off days. I bet skin mag photographers who spend their days around luscious naked women end up bitching about their day when they get home from work. At least I do not have a job like that guy at the zoo that has to reach up the elephant's asshole.
Still, office work has a particular drain that I think is unique in the history of the world. I always thought that movie 'Brazil' summed up the epitome of an office-run world. Last night when I was drifting off to sleep I had a brief fantasy of showing up at a grade schools 'career' day slovenly and drunk and ranting at the kids:
"Boys and girls don't ever get an office job. Those of you that want to become firemen and astronauts, by god go for it. Because otherwise you will look back on your life and realize most of your memories consists of looking at the dingy fabric that covers a cubical wall. And then your bones will dry up and you will breathe out paper dust and you will DIE in that cube, a forlorn dust mummy remembered and forgotten by no one. Happy Career day, kids."
And then when the kids cry, the cops will be called, and I'll be taken out by a trigger-happy sniper.
http://www.geocities.com/karl_wesley/molars2.JPG
Anyhow, I woke up so early I decided to take a bath instead of a shower. A hot bath in the morning really does wonders for easing out the tension that you have not actually built yet, but you know is going to come. Once suitably refreshed I headed out to work. I was much earlier than I expected, though. I cannot get into my building until a certain time, so I had a half hour to blow.
I went to Burger King. I have some dim memory in my mind of once having loved the deep fried lump that these fast food places call 'Hash Browns'. I do not know if this is an actual memory or if it was subliminally planted in my mind from the thousands of McDonald's commercials I watched on Saturday mornings during the early 80's. Regardless, when my stomach is empty some part of my brain tells me these hash browns will be a tasty treat.
That part of my brains is a filthy liar.
I imagine that you do not actually digest these hash browns. Rather, they reform in your stomach like some sort of hash brown version of the Stay Puft Marshmallow man. There he roars and punches and generally abuses the inside of your stomach lining. Also, they make you thirsty. I have made three trips to the water cooler this morning to down several Dixie cups of water. I believe these things are made out of lard and salt. I need to have a lobotomy that rips out the piece of my brain that makes me think it would be OK to eat these things.
While I am on the subject of the building blocks of fine health that is my diet, I think I shall get some wings tonight. 'Ghost Rider' is playing at the aloma cinima grill. I had no real urge to see this movie, namely because I am not into comic books and I think Nicholas Cage is a douche bag, however I do like the Cinema grill. It is one of the few places I will go out and see a movie these days. The fact that I can order a picture of beer really improves whatever crud is playing on the screen. The food is not bad either, although I really should not be eating it considering the time I went there and saw rats running around in the closed hallmark store that was directly next to it in the strip mall
I suppose tomorrow I will supply a review of Ghost rider, one that will probably reaffirm my belief that Nicholas Cage is a Douche bag.
.
Nicholas cage and his mail-order wife.
2026 Update
Dialing back 19 years to watch Ed greet dawn with rum, fast-food hash browns, and a fantasy career-day rant.
Nineteen years later, Ed, you'd be amazed: the office cube is laminated gray and monitored by cameras that record every bathroom break; the Burger King hash brown is still a grease-filled shame, but now it arrives through a drive-thru window while a phone app judges your redemption points. The cinema grill? Mega-corporations bought it, added recliners, and charge $18 for popcorn made from the same lard. The water cooler still stands, but it's flanked by a subscription water filter and a sign reminding you to hydrate for your Zoom call. Geocities is gone; your link would lead to a dead page now, if not for the Internet Archive preserving your molars photo for all eternity. You're still dodging the elephant asshole of office work, but the corporate world has learned to disguise it as 'agile workflow' and 'synergy.' Career day now involves an HR-approved PowerPoint about passion projects and a wellness chatbot. And yes, the rats in the Hallmark store are now probably in the Amazon warehouse.
“2007 Ed, why did you follow up your glorious anti-office career-day death fantasy by linking to a picture of molars, and did you ever ask yourself if the hash brown lobotomy should come before or after you went to see Ghost Rider at a cinema where you'd already watched rats scurry through the neighboring Hallmark store?” — Beelzebubba the Third
2007 Ed: Well, Beelzebubba, first off, I appreciate you callin’ that career-day rant “glorious,” because I thought it was just another Tuesday. As for the molars, I have no clue. Honestly, some days I click around Geocities like a raccoon in a dumpster, and a picture of teeth just ends up in the post. Maybe my brain was tryin’ to tell me I grind my molars at work. No, I never asked myself that. That’s the problem. The hash brown lobotomy should obviously come before the movie, though, because if I sat through Ghost Rider with a Stay Puft hash brown punching my stomach lining and Nicholas Cage makin’ that face, I’d be the one beggin’ for the sniper. And the rats in the Hallmark store? That just makes the Cinema Grill feel like home. I’m still goin’. Take that, foul germs.
