02.23.05

Before we start today's adventure, be warned: today I have the attention span of a Hollywood agent. What follows is a rambling stumble through a mish-mosh of thoughts.

Adventures in Paper Folding Land

The automatic paper folder died the other day. Perhaps smacking the crap out of the rocker switch with a hammer to get the air blower thingies to turn on was ill-advised. However, we got it fixed, and the machine now rocks. No, it boulders.

Today, I got to fold newsletters. (My nipples explode with delight. No. Really. I cannot adequately convey the breadth and depth of my eagerness to complete the task. Woo dee doo.)

(Double plus good credit if you know where the "nipples" line comes from. Not that you, y'know, actually win anything. Oh hell, if you're local and you know, I'll do a chest shimmy at the person of your choice, at my convenience, on the third Sunday of May 2005. Shirts and shoes required. In the case of multiple, correct, local entries, Xat reserves the right to choose the final location which and individual upon whom said chest shimmy should occur. Xat reserves right to refuse to commit said chest shimmy in the case of conflicting plans, Acts of Nature, or because, like, the vibe ain't right, man. Or she's pre-menstrual. That shit hurts)

Where was I? Oh. Yeah. The A.B. Dick automatic paper folder.

In order to adjust the machine (he's mighty damn pertickular) we use the same type of paper as what we're preparing for the clients. Let me tell you, it's no fun trying to get 20#, 11x17 inch paper to behave on the paper folding machine. After making my way through the equivalent of a major deciduous forest, it still wasn't folding right. The hammer lying on the counter glinted gently in the fluorescent lights, and sang its siren song of "adjustment" with extreme prejudice.

Cooler heads prevailed *phew* and I got as close as I could.

The second newsletter had been copied onto heavier paper. What a relief.

Ach. Pollyanna me just thought how pathetic/amusing/wonderful it was to be thrilled about being able to fold heavier paper.

*laugh*

I am a ginormous dweeb. Woop-dee-doo!

The trip to work was icky. The pay off? There was no pay off. Not one tow truck, bit of blood spilled on the pavement, shattered glass, dead body or dead baby lying in the road. No transfiguration, rapture, sudden re-appearance of Asherah, or nude sport professional sunbathers and the all nude Paris Crazy Horse revue. (I'd stop to take a gander at those last few things, wouldn't you?) The only problem was the sun. The sun was rising (apparently this sun rising business is too far out for the locals), making it difficult to see. Here's an exciting new concept: sunglasses.

When, oh when, will the locals learn that in merging it behooves them to speed up to match traffic? There's a ridiculous expectation that everyone will slow down just to let one person in. Here, they do. GAH! Reinforcing bad driving behaviour. GAH! It doesn't help that safe travelling distance is a theoretical construct for local drivers. If everyone went the speed limit, allowed safe travelling distance between vehicles, and looked more than a foot ahead of their front bumpers a lot of the traffic problems would go away. Yeah, can I have a pony too?

I dread the day the rain starts up again.

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