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2005-08-08 - 10:31 a.m. Tell me why I don't like Mondays Extremely slow Monday in cubesville. Well, well, well, here comes the snack cart. Ah, the snack cart. I have a love/hate relationship with this piece of corporate culture. I secretly enjoy the very thing I despise, since its weekly arrival is a voyeuristic glimpse of the most primal desires of the cube culture around me. Once the bell-hop-style bell is sounded, the heads of those around me pop up like Whack-a-Moles from their cubes. The place becomes abuzz, as people dash from their desks to the main aisle and sheepishly choose their treats from the two-tiered grey Rubbermaid cart laden with warehouse store packs of candy bars, chips, and jerky treats. Once they�ve snagged their prize, they slink back to their desks to numb themselves with fat and sugar. Such is the life of a cube dweller. It�s perfectly understandable, as food is the only diversion from your eight hours in front of a screen in a tiny half-room, beneath the penetrating glare of florescent lighting. Food and baby visits. People eat that crap up. If someone brings a kid in here, people are all over that thing with a swiftness that is practically imperceptible to the naked eye, cooing and aah-ing at mach speed. If the snack cart were to pass while someone was showing off her kid, the building would tilt. The Snack Cart. The festival of fun for full time employees. Contractors, like myself, are not included in this Monday frivolity. Unfortunately, my inferior status does not save me from the children visits. I don�t know why people think I am interested, but they do. They push those little germ-infested things in the over-priced get-up all up in your grille, whether you like it or not. ---------------- So, I don�t know what�s up with Pimp Cups, but his description of weekend revelry where he and fianc�e Piles had a BigChill/dancing-movie-montage moment disturbed me, since those two are the couple I�d vote least likely to dance around to a mix tape. Ah, young love. What won�t it do to a otherwise seemingly non-cheese couple? (I kid, I kid.) Call me if you want to throw in a few hip drops. ---------------- Big Poppa�s No Hands Man Uses Hands! In a shocking turn of events, Hands Free held on today. Why we keep track of this, I am not sure, but Big Poppa always gives me the restroom play-by-play of Hands Free, the individual described in Big Poppa�s profile. Big Poppa always comes running back from the visit to his office, as he refers to it, to tell me that Hands Free has a new move, like The Thinker, or was gesticulating wildly or checking his watch or cracking his knuckles or whatever. Since he pointed him out to me in the galley, I cannot look at the guy without snickering. Evidently, today was the day that he was all hands on, and Big Poppa is suddenly worried that Hands Free is onto him.
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