Strude

I heard it.  The squeaky wheel of the cart belonging to the vending machine dude.  (I’m sorry, the Vendor Engineer.)  I walked into the hall acting like I had a work related purpose.  Sure enough, there he was.  I prepared my verbal salvo meant to bring about the return of the Nectar of the Gods I had been missing.

The Vendor Engineer’s head hung low and his shoulders were slumped as he pulled the dolly full of sugary goodness behind him.  I almost felt bad for getting ready to trouble him with something he probably didn’t care about.  No matter, Daddy needed his drink.

I inhaled and opened my mouth, my Coke question cocked and ready to fire, but I stopped.  A crate of Coke sat at the top of the Engineer’s load like a triumphant Caesar returning to Rome.  I wanted to sing, to cheer, to waive the olive branch.  “All hail the Coca-Cola!”

I stepped aside with respect as the Engineer passed by with his precious cargo.  The following minutes in my office passed by like an eternity.  I held a crisp dollar bill in my hands and bounced in my chair with anticipation.  When enough time had passed, I walked to the break room and up to the machine: my glorious harbinger of refreshment.

The smile slid off my face.  Still present was the hand scrawled label reading Dr. Pepper.  Dr. Pepper!  Where did all that Coke go?  How cruel could the vending machine dude be?  He waived salvation in my face only to yank it away like teasing a cat with string.  It was now my turn for a hanging head and slumped shoulders.  Yet with my head at this low angle I saw it: a lighthouse beacon bringing me through the fog.

The very bottom button displayed an ice cold Coke.  It was the most beautiful sight.  The machine ate my crisp dollar and rewarded me with Cola Heaven.  All was now right in the world.  Of course, the folks who liked the orange juice that once occupied that spot are screwed, but so what?

The king has returned.

Trying to find missing CDs a while back, I found an old disc of Star Wars sound effects.  We’re talking Windows 3.X old.  It was meant to add Star Wars sound effects to various Windows events.  All the files are in .WAV so I added them to my computer a work.  This is something I am technically not allowed to do.  I’m also not allowed to write this blog on my work PC either.  Meh.

Darth Vader now threatens me when I log off.  C-3PO freaks out about the Rancor when I encounter an error.  Han Solo warns me with a “transmission commencing” when I am getting a fax.

And every time I log in, Yoda asks me, “I am wondering, why are you here?”

Me too, Yoda.  Me freaking too.

Take a look at a couple of my pages.  First is Band Names and second is Look Ma, I’m on TV.  Some interesting, fun questions, I think.

PS - You will always be able to find the links to these and other pages up top or on the side.

It was a miserable, tragic day when I walked into the break room and saw the words ‘Dr. Pepper’ scrawled on a plain, white piece of paper and shoved into the button that usually displayed the beloved Coca-Cola logo.

WTF?  This is a Coke machine.  Now it’s a Coke machine from which I can no longer purchase an ice cold bottle of heaven.  The Nectar of the Gods has been removed from the machine that bears its name and has been replaced with Dr. freaking Pepper.  Soda gods, why do you mock me?

Sure, my first thought was maybe the delivery guy had run out of the popular beverage.  As mind boggling as this thought was, perhaps it was true.  After all, a hand written note in the button does denote a temporary situation.  Perhaps the good doctor was only in town for a short visit.  Only now, weeks later, the hand written note remains, as does the beverage.  It mocks me, pointing and laughing from its borrowed digs.

How do I combat this?  Do I boycott the Coke machine, relying on Mountain Dew to get me through, in hopes that the delivery man will realize his mistake and evict the doctor in order to bring back the profits of days past?  Or is the delivery guy waiting for the Dr. Pepper supply to dry up before he brings the Coke back?  But if I guzzle all the Pepper, then maybe the delivery guy will think, “Wow, they really like this crap.  I’d better bring more.”

See?  It’s one of those Catch-22 things.  Only times 10.  It’s a Catch-220.

Waiting at the stop light, a pizza delivery guy pulled up next to me in the left turn lane.  I thought to myself, “You know, that might not be a bad job. Driving around listening to the radio all day might be cool.”  I love it when my job pulls me out of the office and I get to drive somewhere.  Of course,  the pizza delivery job probably doesn’t pay that well.

But who knows…

The car pulled forward and I saw that it was a Lexus.  That’s right, a Lexus with a cheap Papa Johns sign attached to the window.  I wish I had my camera for that.

So, either Papa Johns pays really well, or the car payments are so high that pizza delivery is merely there to supplement his income.