Holy Bolshoids...

With the addition of Patrick and Mauricio I've effectively doubled my readership. I'm a big deal now. And as a big deal, I figured I should post something a little more entertaining than the day to day minutia that comes up in my head. I really found Jimmy's post exciting, and so I figured, "Yeah, combat medic is pretty damn exciting, but it doesn't hold a candle to Maildude."

Hold on to your butts, Kids, and get ready for a day in the life.

I woke up this morning, Bosstones blaring out of my iMode. An iMode is a docking station for one's iPod that functions as a clock-radio. You can wake up to any song on your iPod. It's a struggle just to get up, but there's no choices here. You have to get up, you have to keep going.

So I pour myself into the shower and turn it on as hot as it can go. It burns, burns to the point of being mildly uncomfortable, but you have to live with it. I rub the big green bar of Irish Spring all over my body. I pay...special attention...to my delicate parts. Then I get a good lather going on my hands and soap up my scalp.

First blood...I cut myself while I'm shaving my head. It takes...I don't know...5 or six whole seconds to stop bleeding. As the panic fades I look up into the shower head and laugh with pure joy. Another near miss...perhaps I'll live to do it all again tomorrow.

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ducking through the aisle at Von's. It helps that I'm listening to Steppin' Razor by Peter Tosh. It makes you believe you can do anything. I spin around an endcap, narrowly avoiding being spotted by the cashier. Finally, I'm there. The bakery. Like the flashing lightning I make my selection: poppy seed, with plain cream cheese. A man's bagel. I pay, and get back in the car.

At work, the adrenaline takes over. I'm outside myself, watching myself do amazing things, things I never knew my hands could do: folding, stuffing, taping. The mail comes like an endless wave. Resisting it would be resisting the tide, so I flow with it. It comes in, it goes out. All the while there's a steady crackle of office politics in the background. I am immune.

At 4:30 I sit, the demands of the job quelled. I contemplate what to do later, to pass the time. Will I watch a movie? Will I make out? Who knows? Anything goes when you live on the edge.

Here's a picture.