Slings and Arrows
Predator Press
[LOBO]
I was really having a great week at work.
First, my iPhone got approved, and then I got this nifty wireless transmitter with a range larger than the entire plant. Now I can yell at people or pretend I'm talking to Twiki from the bathroom, the parking lot, anywhere.
But things went south in a big way today.
For the past few weeks, the company has been buying 8 Chicago Bears tickets a game and raffling them off to us. And this week I won the stupid pool.
Well technically Louie won. But since he’s lucky enough to no longer be with us, Babs says now I’m the one that has to endure all that traffic both ways and sit in like 12 degrees for nine hours with ten billion of you drunk and rabid crazies.
Sunday, I’m going to my first live professional football game.
You know, say what you will about my anti-social tendencies, but I’m a basically happy guy when it all boils down. And I like football. But I passionately hate being in crowds; I would much rather catch the game at home. My first impulse was to sell the tix, or maybe even give them away.
But High Command has spoken: attendance is non-transferable and mandatory.
The memo concludes teasingly, “Wear something skimpy.”
Based on the weather report, I’m hoping gasoline and matches qualify.
[LOBO]
I was really having a great week at work.
First, my iPhone got approved, and then I got this nifty wireless transmitter with a range larger than the entire plant. Now I can yell at people or pretend I'm talking to Twiki from the bathroom, the parking lot, anywhere.
But things went south in a big way today.
For the past few weeks, the company has been buying 8 Chicago Bears tickets a game and raffling them off to us. And this week I won the stupid pool.
Well technically Louie won. But since he’s lucky enough to no longer be with us, Babs says now I’m the one that has to endure all that traffic both ways and sit in like 12 degrees for nine hours with ten billion of you drunk and rabid crazies.
Sunday, I’m going to my first live professional football game.
You know, say what you will about my anti-social tendencies, but I’m a basically happy guy when it all boils down. And I like football. But I passionately hate being in crowds; I would much rather catch the game at home. My first impulse was to sell the tix, or maybe even give them away.
But High Command has spoken: attendance is non-transferable and mandatory.
The memo concludes teasingly, “Wear something skimpy.”
Based on the weather report, I’m hoping gasoline and matches qualify.
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