U: 2/26/03

Work Diary, 2/26/03

1. Nothing is sacred: I just returned from the first floor men's room,
where a current occupant was sitting on the pot while chatting away on
his cell phone. I heard terms like "fiscal" and "year-end goal" being
thrown about, so I doubt he was talking to his wife. How is he going to
flush the toilet without the other person knowing? I bet he doesn't
flush it, the creep.

2. I'm wearing the most ridiculous pants today. They were hanging on
the hot water pipe downstairs and looked clean (they are), so I put
them in my gym bag and considered myself ready for another day of
casual business attire. I don't feel so casual. The pants have various
buttons, loops, and latches for securing them around the waist. The
pockets are about two inches deep; one of the rear pockets has a
button, the other doesn't. They're snug around my thighs and go
straight down to just the tops of my shoes. I look like a 1960's Dick
Van Dyke, only without the bryl cream.

3. Yoga Update: I managed to take the special non-slip mat out of its
box. It's given the room a smell not unlike - and there's no way to say
this delicately - a dog's unexpressed anal glands. The mat's plastic;
the manufacturers must've got a bad batch of chemicals. I was watching
a Simpson's DVD and couldn't take the smell, so I kicked it behind the
couch. Out of sight, out of mind, I say, which more or less sounds like
pithy Yoga-ese.

4. The Cable TV people finally sniffed us out and disconnected the
service, which we've been using for free the past three years. I refuse
to pay for television based on some principle I can't remember, and the
only real drawback is that I'll miss American Idol. I'm curious,
though: Why is it, when I was a kid, we could get reception without the
benefit of cables or satellite dishes or Star Trek-ish antennae taking
up half the wall? Losing cable service only to find static and snow on
the screen is enough to turn anybody into a conspiracy theorist.

5. Tonight we're going to a restaurant called the Melting Pot. It's a
fondue place, located in a town's old library. We have a gift
certificate; otherwise, we wouldn't be going. Last time we went, it was
for my sister's birthday. The waiter spotted me handing my sister a
little blue Tiffany &; Co. bag - her name is Tiffany, thus the gift
- and suddenly he became an entirely different person. It was if Donald
Trump had landed in his section. He skinned and grinned his way through
the rest of our meal, which was nice until his constant presence had me
glancing around nervously every time something moved in the shadows
(and it's a very dark restaurant). If our waiter's behavior was a taste
of being rich and famous, they can keep it.