My mind is elsewhere every summer. Atlanta summers are … ugh. I hate it here this time of year. At least in Orlando, I could escape the suffocating humidity with a quick trip to the beach. Here? Nothing.
So these trips are what I’m looking forward to in the next few. Until then, consider me checked out.
Ever notice that ice cream “trucks” are really child molester/kidnapper vans just painted white?
The “unsubscribe” process on marketing emails is sort of like the office thermostat. No matter how many times you change it, nothing changes.
Today is cake day at work, when we celebrate monthly birthdays.
There is no escaping cake day. First you get an email saying that it is cake day, then the receptionist will come by your desk and ask you for money. You are always expected to show up (because you have nothing better to do). If you do not show up, they will not start cake day until someone goes and finds you to participate.
There used to be singing at cake day. Not the group “happy birthday to you” singing, but the one person volunteers to serenade the birthday suckers people while the rest of us awkwardly sit there. CREEPY. But after many protests from one… ahem… individual in particular, that has stopped and now there is an awkward speech congratulating the birthday folk for not dying and making it just one. more. year. Congrats, people.
If you even think about missing it, there is no cake-to-go. If you are in a meeting you may be able to get cake remnants, but that chance is slim especially if the grad students get to it before you do. Wiped clean, people.
This is how we do cake day.
We met-up at Holy Taco. A perfect summer evening on the patio, complete with the usual jackassery from us. Good times.
Fact: I always carry pepper spray with me.
When we went to New York for a long Memorial Day weekend, I somehow forgot to remove it. Officially you can put it in your checked baggage, but we didn’t check bags.
I didn’t realize that I even had it with me until we repacked for our flight out of Newark. Oops. I guess I could have just checked the bag, but everyone who’s ever flown into ATL knows that equates another hour of standing around and waiting, on top of the stupid $15 Delta fee. Fuck that.
I smoothly and easily sailed through ATL’s airport security a contraband item, but I assume anything and everything is stupid in Atlanta and I was going to get caught here. So there I was, freaking out in the security line and finally just threw it away. Damn it.
Next time I’m “unknowingly” going to bring my 4(!) oz. container of lens solution. Take that!