The Sandwich Police

I love sandwiches. Hot, cold, or toasty, I find anything you can stuff between two slices of bread quite appealing. Often, when I bring a particularly tasty sandwich in my lunch to work, I tend to tell people about it, as was the case today. That's right, I strike up conversations about my lunch and how awesome my sandwich is and that yes, you should be jealous, and no, I won't trade it for your tuna casserole... Anyway, this afternoon, as my sandwich was in the process of becoming all melty and delicious, I noticed that parts of the bread (a delicious whole grain Italian sub roll... mmmm.) were cooking unevenly in the archaic toaster oven my office has in our kitchen. I adjusted the sandwich accordingly and sat down, eagerly awaiting my culinary masterpiece.

Moments later, a particular meek colleague of mine poked her head around and said gently to me "I think you should check on your sandwich." Well sure enough, there was gray smoke wafting out of the oven, the top of by beloved sandwich blackened to a crisp. I attempt to blow the smoke out of the kitchen, my cheeks puffed, my lips pursed, but all efforts prove to be in vain. The fire alarm had been triggered and the room was consumed by blinking lights and piercing bells. I work in a large public building, which means that hundreds of people were forced to evacuate. As one of the designated individuals responsible for securing the evacuation of the 1st floor, I paced back and forth, urging people to exit as quickly as possible, all the while knowing I was the cause of their forced hasty retreat. As I patrolled the floor, I thought of ways to sneak back to the lunch room to dispose of the sandwich, obvious evidence since it was a blackened crumbling mass resting next to the oven, but I was soon forced to leave the building myself.


When the public safety officers finally gave the all clear to us evacuees waiting outside in the snow, I sheepishly made my way back to the lunchroom. As I walked down the hall, several colleagues gave me knowing glances and muted smiles. To some, I whispered timidly, "don't tell anyone, but I set it off," to which the response was "I know." Apparently, the entire staff was aware of my blunder since I had been talking all morning about how great my sandwich was gonna be. Boastfulness was my downfall, as was the trust I held in my office's toaster oven to handle my totally awesome lunch.

Joke # 1731

With less then a year left in his term, President Bush has begun work on securing his legacy, which, since the beginning of the Iraq war, has turned to complete Shi'ite.

Panda Factory

Are these creatures actually endangered or is a certain communist country that shall remain nameless simply trying to control the world market?

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

Exhibit C*

* These last ones are clearly being trained for some military operation...

Celebrating the Clap

So today is Valentines Day..........

And a colleague of mine just wished me a “Happy VD.” Yes, VD. Now, I can only assume this coworker meant “Happy Valentine’s Day” and not “Happy Venereal Disease,” but I am certainly not going to inquire. Anyway, for those of you celebrating with your loved ones, I wish a happy Herpes, Gonorrhea, and Chlamydia to you all.

Healthy Competition

Once a year my college friends and I gather for a day of sportsman-like drinking, known to us as The Beer Olympics. Various events are organized, such as beer pong, flip cup (a personal favorite), quarters etc. As you can imagine, the senses become dulled after hours of such assault, so it was early in the evening that we all retired to bed (well, to the various air mattresses, sleeping bags, and sofa cushions assembled in my friend’s living room).


Suddenly, in the middle of the night, I awoke to a piercing persistent beep. It roused some of my fellow Olympians, all of us exchanging blurry glances and slurred expressions of annoyance for having been awoken from our coma like state. Someone shouts "it’s the carbon monoxide detector!" Suddenly, I am completely alert, desperately attempting to recall the symptoms of CO2 poisoning often described on Dateline. Was I nauseous? Yes. Sweating? Yes. Thinking clearly? No. Omg call 911, I think to myself, I am poisoned! I can’t breath! I am dizzy! I...pass out and wake up to sunlight streaming stealthily through the slots of the blinds, my brow crinkling from the blinding light and a pretzel stuck to my cheek. I silently chant a prayer, thankful to be alive. I had not been poisoned after all. I was just drunk.