The New Danger

With the installment of a new UP Overlord in our building comes a new syndicate of fledgling contractor underlings. This new gang of peons requires the usual amenities: coffee, water, toilet paper, etc. Herein lies the problem. As the inflow of contractors increases, the strain put on the capacity of our limited resources does likewise. The infrastructure is beginning to swell, and it's only a matter of time until the pipes burst at their seams.

According to a report from one of “the reviewers,” the new underlings consumed three large pots of coffee before 9:00 AM, like how a plague of locusts cuts across a fertile plain. As one may have guessed, our water reservoir is being depleted with unprecedented speed to keep in stride with their consumption of coffee. With such ravenous use, one thing is a certainty: sustainability is at risk! Also, as we all know, coffee is a popular diuretic. Our toilets will fill up with prodigious amounts of shit and tissue paper relative to the rate our water levels are drained. I’ll let you do the math…

As you work your mind around the equation, here’s an important variable to keep in the back of your head: I present to you a certain underling, whom we will refer to as “Francis Buxton” due to previous evidence supplied by one of our ranks. [see posts "The New Backroom Guy...?" and "Further Evidence"] I entered the restroom earlier today to see a voluminous pair of jeans bunched up around a proportionately large set of cankles peeking out from under the stall divider. Needless to say, it’s embarrassing for both parties when you walk in on such a situation. However, when you factor in the smell and a series of grunts, groans, and complex breathing exercises usually reserved for birthing mothers, it just makes the experience that much more uncomfortable. The straw that broke the camel’s back, though, was when I heard a set of pudgy sausage-like fingers wrap around the railings on the inside of the stall divider. It became readily apparent that this was not your ordinary turd, as it took the full strength of both his upper and lower limbs to assist in powering it out…

The Airlite 9 have been caught in a constant whirpool of struggle to stay afloat in any given situation, but with the increasingly insurmountable odds weighing down at our shoulders, we just may sink. I only hope we can be as resilient as his turd must have been in its steadfast refusal to flush down that drain.

This brings up another interesting point as well, just to play devil's advocate against my whole argument. Is it advantageous to us that our numbers are swelling? Nevermind the old saying, "there's power in numbers," but if we are collectively a large turd spinning around in the toilet bowl that is Airlite (as I already alluded to), will we also become too large to flush? Just let that thought stew around in your head as well...

When conventional weapons don't work...

Improvise Adapt and Overcome

I just can't find Gravelle Road anywhere...it's supposed to be near Xing...

Our Fearless leader...

The sky is falling...!

Ahh, Mondays… For those of us working stiffs, there are few days more horrifyingly dull. As I sat at my desk this morning, staring blankly between my computer screen and a poorly scrawled railroad map of St. Paul, Minnesota, I thought about all of the places I’d rather be, and of all the things I’d rather be doing. No matter how long the weekend lasts, it’s never long enough regardless of whether you sat on ass for two days straight or busted ass trying to complete the chores that had piled up over the course of the week as you sulked around the house because it wasn't quite 5:00 PM Friday. So, as I sat there lulling in and out of a working state of consciousness, my mind fell into its ADHD fueled auto-pilot hyperlinking stage: St. Paul is in Minnesota > Minnesota is cold > When it's cold it snows > When it snows I can go snowboarding. I thought I must have been hallucinating snow fall in anticipation of carving a path down the hillside through a fresh coat of virgin powder.

I was brought back from la-la land as one of the Airlite 9 (whom I will refer to as "Chicken Little") shouted from the adjacent cubicle concerning the falling primordial dust and asbestos that had been trapped in the overhead air ducts for the greater part of the century, now liberated by the gentle stroke of a feather brush. Like my snowflakes, the dust came shimmering down from above, no two particles alike. It appeared that Custodial Claus had brought me an early Christmas treat. I appreciate the gesture, but it was a gift I was just not prepared to accept, at least not until I scooted my chair from underneath the goddamn duct.

Just what I needed to make my Monday official… on the other hand, thanks for finally poking some holes on the lid of the shoebox you keep us in! Certainly I'll be able breath easier from now on, of course after I hack up all of that asbestos, rat feces, and dead skin cells from long-retired plastic makers of the past.

Terror Threat SEVERE

<---

If you have seen this man...Please notify the proper authorities.

Yousef Ali bin Leuark

a.k.a. "Deuce Honker"

Known to "blow his nose" very loudly disturbing the Airlite9. Also has a tendancy to look at dog porn and cram little white earbuds improperly in the ear canal.

If your looking for a good time call...

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

It's Monday...