Crickets in August

I've decided to enhance my morning commute by bringing along one of these babies.

You see, my daily commute now officially falls within "rush hour". Personal space is at a premium and mine is constantly permeated by oblivious metro riders. Now my 3 foot traffic cone and I stand side by side, and i have plenty of elboe and breathing room. Thanks cone-buddy. I made sure it is an extra-bright orange to convey the seriousness of my personal space needs. Everyone should have a cone on the subway.

In other news, the gym proved to be awkward YET AGAIN. Let's be honest, when someone says, "How are you?" to someone they don't really know, the answer should be "Well. And you?" to which you graciously reply "Well, thanks." Having completed the perfunctory non-committal salutation you are to separate and smile at your warm and considerate temperament. Now, today, I asked the simple question and received what sounded like the scripted conversation until he flew off the handle, "I'm fine EXCEPT I hate my job! They are idiots!!! Who favors bureaucracy to effective problem solution?!?! I hate…" at this point the guys boss sticks his head around the corner and says, "it wouldn't be so bad if PEOPLE weren't complaining all the time!" Well jiminy christmas, the fuse is lit. I stepped back and listened to the two exchange Latin axioms about the propriety of the said work environment. Everyone else in the locker room, just blinked and watched the argument volley back and forth. The lesson to be learned: If you don't care, don't ask.

Terror-rats

I've introduced you to the puppy, Tac. The nine-freckled girl and I didn't quite know what we were signing into when we agreed to take the little reindeer. Turns out, she's quite the festive little puppy. She loves the taste of blue spruce. Moreover, she love the taste of Christmas ornaments, particularly the ones that splinter into hazardous shards of blood letting death. Yep, that's my little girl. She had a nice trip to the puppy hospital where they poked and prodded while she squirmed and cried. The ordeal lasted several hours and ended with the solid veterinary advice to "just let it pass, but make sure it does, okay?" So I've been sifting through festive puppy poo, it's sparkly and smelly. I'm such a happy dad.

Onto other news, this is the subject of an actual email sent to all of the employees at my un-named workplace: Notice from Office of Facilities and Support Services on Rodent Control. I just can't let you go with that, the first paragraph reads:
The purpose of this notice is to provide an update regarding efforts to eliminate the presence of rodents in the Building. Control measures in place are identified below and are aimed at denying access points to rodents and reducing activities that encourage their presence.
By "Rodents" they mean rats. Reducing activities? Encourage their presence? Personally, I send them notes telling them how much I appreciate their contributions to the dysfunctional work environment. They understand me.
I have yet to meet one employee who hasn't had a vermin encounter. A dear friend of mine was trapped by a rat just a few weeks ago. She was held hostage by the said vermin whilst it checked its email and ate her lunch.