What’s that? Oh, you’ve noticed the comic strip near the top of the site?

(BTW: If it appears non-centered on the page, hit F5 on your keyboard once or twice to refresh. It should then snap into place. These crazy comic strips — always wanting to do their own thing. Sheesh.)

I wanted to make sure people, regular readers and new readers alike, knew about the gift package Angi is organizing for a Marine friend (and his friends) in Iraq. “People should know about this,” I thought to myself. “And if they want to participate by writing a letter, sending a postcard or whatnot, I should make sure they know what to do and who to contact.”

And what better way to make sure people are up to speed than a comic strip where I threaten to shoot a kitten if they don’t participate?

I think I have an advertising career ahead of me.

11:34 AM

I usually don’t listen to the radio on my commute to work in the morning, but I did today. In fact, it’d probably been six or seven months since I last did it. And what do my ears hear on the radio this morning? Fergie’s Big Girls Don’t Cry.

Are you kidding me? This song is still being played?

I don’t want to Fergie-bash. Granted, her face has an alien quality to it. And granted, she’s not very talented. All that said, this particular song of hers isn’t so bad. It’s quite melodic, in fact. However, it bugs me.

Why?

Because of the line in the chorus, “I’m gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket.”

Are you kidding me?

It’s not like “blanket” is used to rhyme with another word either. It’s a standalone line that doesn’t rhyme with anything. Apparently, Fergie and/or whoever really wrote the lyrics to the song thought it sounded really deep or something.

I don’t know about the rest of you, but if a girl told me she was going to miss me like a child misses their blanket, I’d have to fight the urge to laugh and respond, “And I’m going to miss you like a confused little boy misses his Rainbow Brite doll.”

12:11 PM

Having learned from my “skipping lunch” mistakes the previous two weeks, I’ve brought my lunch with me to work yesterday and today. It’s nothing fancy, just four pieces of wheat bread, some turkey slices, two slices of Swiss cheese, some light mayo and some spicy brown mustard.

Oh, and lots of tiny green pieces of awesome — pickles.

Pickles have the power to turn a boring sandwich into one capable of captivating my attention for hours on end.

I almost don’t want to eat it.

It’s just so darn good lookin’.

1:09 PM

I’m shocked. There appears to be another employee my age here. This one doesn’t work in my building, but she works in the building next door (same company, two different buildings).

This other building has their own security entry, which of course I do not have any way to bypass. So, when I needed to get over there a little while ago, I had to knock on the door and wait for someone to let me inside.

The girl who let me in had a look on her face that indicated she was thinking the exact same thing I was thinking: “Wow, here’s someone my age!”

I didn’t realize until later that my employee badge wasn’t in a place she could see it. So, for all she knew, she was granting a homicidal maniac access to her building.

I guess I have an honest face — my homicidal smirk notwithstanding.

2:48 PM

Believe it or not, the adorable kitten wasn’t my only choice for a victim in the comic strip you see at the top of the SKOS. I had a few other ideas.

Steve Urkel was one. You remember Urkel, right? From the 90’s TV show Family Matters? Well, whether you do or not, he was a candidate.

In the end, I opted against Steve Urkel on the grounds some of you might actually want him dead. I mean…the guy WAS annoying. Those pants of his were hiked up inexplicably high. And that voice…ugh, that winy, nasally voice was awful. And that “cool” alter ego of his…Stefan Urquelle. Ugh, Lord help me.

You know what? I’m shooting him anyway.

4:04 PM

I have a bit of a headache, so I asked a co-worker if he had any Ibuprofen. “Check the supply closet,” he suggests. Apparently, in addition to pens and pencils and post-it notes and whatnot, the supply closet also has Ibuprofen and aspirin.

So, I headed down the hall, took a left and went to the supply closet. The room is only about five yards wide, but it’s ten yards deep. They pack a heck of a lot of stuff in there.

While looking, in vain, for the Ibuprofen, the door opened. In walked the new, young, female co-worker who had startled me twice with her booming “good morning” greetings.

I prepared my ears for a screeching “OH MY GOSH YOU STARTLED ME” scream, but thankfully she spared me. Instead I received an, “Oh good…can you help me find the printer paper” question.

I obliged and then briefly showed her where the other main items were in the supply closet. In the process, I discovered the Ibuprofen (right next to the pens — pretty sneaky, Ibuprofen!).

As we said our thanks and goodbyes and began to leave (at the same time), a thought popped into my head. What if someone sees us leaving the supply closet together? That’s how rumors get started, you know.

So, I pretended to “forget” something else I needed to grab from the supply closet as she walked out the door alone.

Whewwww.

Potential crisis averted.

It’s a good thing I’m a quick thinker. Even headaches can’t slow me down.

Now where did I set that Ibuprofen…

6:26 PM

I just opened the jar of peanut butter I bought at the grocery store on Sunday. A spoon of peanut butter is a great snack. If you like peanut butter, of course. Which I do.

To my dismay, I noticed there is no seal on the jar.

And then I noticed that the peanut butter is…liquid.

How liquid?

It’s almost as liquid as the Coke Zero I’m drinking right now.

A normal person would simply be disgusted. I’m ticked I paid good money for liquid peanut butter.

Anyone want it? If yes, I could do another one of those blog giveaway things.