Last night I played dinner music for a swanky awards ceremony. They must have really enjoyed my stirring rendition of Barbara Streisand's "The Way We Were," because I was presented with something that I really, really wanted, like probably more than anything else in this world...a box of chocolates, from my company. Super. The local pageant royalty was also in attendance and had the same response to her thank you gift, although I think her reaction stemmed more from anorexia than anything else. She performed a stirring rendition of the always popular and never worn-out "I Hope You Dance."

(While I was typing this, I happened to have this actual conversation on the phone.)

Me:"Thank you for calling _____ Chocolates."
Caller: "Do you sell badminton sets?"
Me:"Chocolate badminton sets?"
Caller:"Are they on sale?"
Me:"You want a chocolate badminton set?"
Caller:"No, why would I want that?"
Me:"Umm. Okay."
Caller: "Just tell me if you have badminton sets."
Me (with an idea): "This isn't Gart Sports."
Caller: "Oh, okay, sorry, bye."

"My Eating Habits" by me.

As has been mentioned before, my eating habits are a little sketchy. Our company just got back from a trade show called the All Candy Expo, in which we gathered 123 pounds of candy to bring home and sample....and sample it I have. Today I ate:

1 chocolate draddle
1 Laffy Taffy rope
39 Happy Hearts
1 Blue Raspberry Sour Patch Tongue
1 Neon Punch Candy Rope
2 Sour Electroshocks
1 Dipper Licker
19 Sour Cry Baby Tears
2 sprays of Sour Lemon Lime Candy Spray

And....

Yesterday, Brittany and I went to Burger Supreme, where their motto "Something for Everyone's Taste," was being put to the test. On the way in we saw two souped up Saturns and on the way out we saw a man on horseback going through the drive thru.

Well, Cary Grant came in to our office again today. This time he brought his daughter, who I'm keeping an eye on. She is playing with her Barbies who are apparently doing the same things they were doing when I played Barbies...getting dressed and going to parties. Yeah, so they're at this party and now I think that Pink song is in heavy rotation, and I can faintly hear, "IIIIIIIIIIIII'm gonna get this party started. IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII will get this party started." One of the barbies said the party was boring so now I think they're leaving. And now I hear a bunch of smacking noises so either Ken and Barbie are kissing or they're eating dinner. I'm not sure.

Dear N.

When you said you weren't interested in me like that, I don't think you were aware that I hip hop really, really well. And I would hate for you to make a decision based on what you know about me, which is basically that I "account." I know for a fact that had I been aware that you race cars there would have been WAY more eyelash batting done on my part. But no. All I had to go on was your whole Johns Hopkins Medical School thing, which, you know, can get old.

Regards,
C - "I saw 'The Fast and the Furious' four times in the theaters" - Dawg

Say you were driving down 2nd East in Provo, Utah on Monday and you just happened to come across a group of five boys and four girls who were staring intently at the gutters. Well, I really don't think you should be getting ideas about any of these people. There are a lot of people out there who enjoy racing popsicle sticks. And just because one of the girls was standing a few paces behind, DOES NOT mean her popsicle stick was losing like nobody's business.

If you're eating chocolate, and there's a hair in that chocolate, which you can't claim as your own, there's a pretty good chance it could be from the head (or hind leg, or armpit) of a badger. This is why. Our company just ordered our very own chocolate polishing brushes made with authentic badger hair, since nothing shines up a piece of chocolate like roadkill. My co-worker Nicky was concerned that badgers were harmed during the brush manufacturing process, so she had me, as the official office monkey, call Braun Brush Company and ask if they, in fact, kill their badgers. We all heaved a collective sigh of relief that they bic the rodents instead.

Lately our apartment has had some problems, namely Chris and Don. Because Chris and Don are having difficulties discovering where aquaintance ends and stalking begins, I felt I had to take some drastic measures. So here is a play-by-play of Wednesday night's attempt, using army training photos to give you a better idea of the insuing events.

Knock at the door.
Brittany exits living room.
Door bell rings.
TV is turned off (to, you know give the appearance of an empty house or possibly a house with "The Clapper.")
Carolyn slides to the floor and flattens onto the ground.
Carolyn uses strategic army skills to navigate through the living room without being detected.
Carolyn peeks up at open kitchen window and realizes her flattened form is in full view.
Carolyn freezes.
Carolyn laughs.
Visitors withdraw.

Carolyn wins.

You know, I'm not so sure that post was funny. I just read a story about cockroach art and things are a little touch and go over here.

I know that all my faithful readers have been biting their nails in anticipation of a new post. I would just like to explain that my job responsibilities have been expanded to include adding numbers and other complicated math skills. I hope to learn how to accomplish these things at any moment. And I have faith that although none of these things have ever clicked with me in the past, it just might be different this time around because, you know, I've seen "A Beautiful Mind" twice.