Crash You Will

The Dark End of Shady

I’m currently applying to software training positions around the country.

My imagination being what it is, I pictured getting a grand new training position after a brief phone interview. The daydream continues - - my new employers are not native English speakers, but seem very friendly over the phone and are eager to meet me.

I’m flown first class to the Bimini Isles, where I’m provided an elegant seaside villa. The next day, I discover that my job is to teach Halo 3 to a group of middle aged foreign gentlemen, all wearing elaborate headdresses.

Through an interpreter, they explain that they wish to win a Halo 3 XBox 360 tournament in six months. They all seem nice enough, but a number of the attendants are carrying uzi’s – the interpreter explains that the gun wielding dudes are secret service protecting the crown prince, who is among my trainee’s (“Oh, forgive me Mister Trainer, I can not say which one…”).

After just a few minutes of training the guys, it’s clear that this group is not your average Halo crowd as they are taking careful notes about squad organization, group communication and objective coordination. They loudly debate the exact marching order they should use for a full ten minutes. The guy assigned sniper is quickly hazed with an exploding Code Red Mt. Dew when he kills an enemy with a shot to the throat when a headshot had been ordered – an XBox is ruined by the soda, but another console is brought in within five minutes as if this is a common thing.

Returning that evening to my villa, I am met by a masseuse who provides a thorough treatment. After a delicious dinner (a ‘Double Double with Cheese’ from ‘In and Out Burger’, flown in from Las Vegas) I nervously, politely turn away a beautiful courtesan.

I lie in bed blinking at the ceiling while the 65” television plays a lost Star Wars sequel from 1992. Episode 7 goes largely unwatched (Clint Eastwood as a Jedi?) as my heart races. What do I do now? What would happen if I quit the job? Or when the six-month position comes to an end? Shit. I can’t believe I sent the courtesan away! Frak! They’re going to kill me when this is over…

If Yoda owned a Dry Cleaners

Starch,.or no starch...There is no 'light'.
.
.
.
Over the past couple of months, I've been taking my work clothes to a dry cleaners near my work - it's really the first time I've used a dry cleaners regularly - every other visit was for 1 outfit, for a special occasion.

One of my shirts are made of a rather thick material, and when starched it turned into cardboard. My coworkers gleefully took the opportunity to tease me about my cottony body armor - - ha ha, indeed, ha ha - - all in good fun.

I decided to stop going to the cleaners (mostly because it involves just one more errand to run every week, and who needs that) and last night I tossed my work shirts in the washer for the first time in weeks. I hung them to air dry.

This morning, I pulled on my aka-body-armor shirt, and it was much softer, more like - I don't know - an actually comfortable garment - and it still had the creases in the sleeves, its collar still arched like an irked feline. When I got home from the grocery store, I threw it back into the 'dirty' pile for a rewashing. Will one more wash be enough to expunge its chemical fortitude? Tune in next week!
.

Mark My Words!

News on the street is, we'll be seeing R2D2 themed mail boxes from the USPS here soon:

My first thought was "Cool!"

My second thought was "Bad idea. People will steal them - and that's a Federal offense."

.