Diluting the Soda

I regularly receive mass emails from farflung supervisors and consultants. They're always irrelevant and ridiculous, with subjects like "Remove 225 approved individuals from SDA waiting list" and "update to manual 24.5.anteater." The mass emailing, I suppose, is used to save time—instead of typing 50 counselors' names, the supervisor just mass emails to 400 people. But couldn't they just use a little mailing list or something?!

All this because I just opened a division-wide email with the subject line "CWHM Waiver: this waiver will only apply to 325 children." And I was like…"no... no..." And I just moved on.

I just walked in on a bald man in the bathroom towelling the sweat from his newly shorn head. He's a young guy, and with that shaved head and craggy features I've always assumed he was Russian or Romanian, some sort of international spy. Well, today when I walked into the bathroom and bathed my soda bottle (the soda had exploded, boom, and now I have no eye and only three testicles) he said in some Eastern-European language:

"Yooodilthingdesodapop?"

And I said, "What?"

"The soda. You diluting the soda pop?"

"Oh," I said. "No, just washing it off."

And he looked so sad! I mean, fuck! When he asked if I was diluting the soda, such an expression of joy and connection on his mysterious spy's face! We were brothers, for just a few seconds!

"It is not too thick?"

"Nah," I said. "It just exploded."

. . .

Now, some links:

Giving those damn nazzies whatfor (I haven't read all this yet, but it looks interesting)(also, you may need to register, but i'm not sure)

An ant's agonizing death