You know what I'm craving? Gravy! Here's the Weekly Wrapup:

1. Engaged the enemy in the Great Coffee War.
2. Contemplated embroidery.
   
3. Spilled yogurt on the floor.
   
4. Got paid. Damn.
   
5. Finished.
   
6. six six
7. Started.
   
8. Kind of ran out of stuff to say.
   
9. Considered which one
   

The Coffee Wars continue:

Yesterday, I secured passage to work on a train leaving a few precious minutes earlier than normal. I seized the coffee machine and neutralized the forces of Weak-Ass through tactical use of the eigth-cup measure. At some point hence, the enemy attempted an insurection by means of setting up the coffee ahead of time, hoping that upon my arrival I would chose to passively flip the red switch rather than take further steps toward their subjugation. Such fools they are--so completely unaware that I have been smuggling extra scoops into the basket for literally months that they assumed their counterstrike would go unanswered.

A message to the world's children:

Do whatever the hell you want. Fail school. Don't listen to your parents. But, for God's sake, be careful and have some self-respect.

My archnemesis, Fraeulein X, is making a comeback. Lately, she has made her voice heard on the issue of coffee strength. Her feeling is that our weak-ass coffee is not weak-ass enough and now I'm sitting here sleepily drinking a cup of brown water and plotting revenge. The last thing I need is someone messing up my coffee.

It's become clear to me that I need to stage a coup in order to establish control of the coffee maker. Thus far, I've avoided taking on such a responsibility as it means I'm going to have to tell the other coffee drinkers that they're stupid and they drink weak-ass shit--not the best way of building professional relationships. However, there's a time to build professional relationships and a time a time to tell stupid drinkers of weak-ass shit just exactly where they can put their coffee mugs if they continue to fill them w/Folgers brewed to depression-era standards. Right now, I'm opting for the latter.

Remember: I work w/ people who tell me lentils are unhealthy in between bites of Soilent Lo-fat Microwave Dinners. I believe one of them is on both a low-carb and high-carb diet at the same time (she hasn't lost any weight but I believe the goal of said diet is to give her something to complain about and in that sense it is a resounding success). My point is these people know shit about food. They were raised by retards in the wilds of Retardonia where all they had was a microwave and a McDonald's to supply them w/ their needed nutrients. Malnutrition has made their minds small and malformed. They simply cannot be dealt w/ through conventional means.

If they pull that half-caff shit again, so help me....

If somebody were to make a very high-quality craft-brewed beer and sold it for the same price as Budweiser, Budweiser would still sell more. Why? Momentum. Anyway, that's my opinion and yours is wrong even if you agree w/ me.

Dear riders of Chicago Transit Authority trains and busses:

Bear in mind that out of the general population, less than one percent of people are deaf to the point where they have to rely on sign language to communicate. What this means to you is there's at least a ninety-nine percent chance that the person sitting behind you can hear the entirety of your conversation. When chosing a subject, please keep this in mind.

It doesn't bother me in the least that you should exchange pleasantries, discuss business or even gossip a little about your friends but, frankly, I don't need to know how often you and your husband have been making love nor do I care to hear to every last detail about your daughter's failing marriage. In the future, if you can't avoid discussing these things on the train, please do so in a more subdued tone.

Thank you,
Logical Frank, the guy who writes this blog

There is not enough coffee in this office this morning. This leaves me w/ nothing to write.

I'm a busy man and you should thank your lucky stars each time I take the time to write the weekly wrapup. Here's what I did this week:

1. Got pissed at the United States Postal System.
2. Turned twenty-five (today, actually).
3. Got spiced.
4. Ran into a problem.
5. Tried to find something hot to touch.
   
6. six six
7. Decided to leave early.
   
8. Showed immaculate restraint.
9. Considered new pickups v. a barritone guitar v. a lot of other options.

There you have it, folks. That's all I got.

Why don't films have overatures any more? It's as if the film industry got together and said--hey, this is pretty sweet, let's not do that. It just plain doesn't make sense.

There's an old adage that's commonly repeated by wanna-be-hippies and other twelve-year-olds: "It's better to regret something you have done than something you haven't done." I shudder to even begin to explain the enormity of the crap in this statement. There's a lot of things I wish I'd have done but the majority of those things would have turned out badly had I done them. Most of what I have done has turned out worse. This is why I limit my activities to just nine things a week and I summarize them for you, dear reader, in the Weekly Wrapup. Here's what I did:

1. Watched the Sox lose.
2. Watched the Sox win.
3. Didn't watch the Sox win.
4. Watched the Sox lose again.
5. Added more weight.
   
6. six six
7. Just thought that most people would have only thought to make a 666 joke like that this Tuesday but I've been doing it for years, making me fully rad.
8. Blasphemed.
   
9. Considered just up and leaving.

And I regret all of it.

When I see cops in this town--fat and slow-witted, eyes dull and glazed over, ambling down the street stuffing their faces w/ hamburgers and donuts--I just want to ask them if they're trying to conform as closely as possibly to every negative stereotype of their profession. I also want to try snatch their guns from their holsters just to see if I can do it. It doesn't seem like it'd be hard at all.

I'm not sure where to start when it comes to wrapping up this weekly. Here it is though, the Weekly Wrapup--what I did this week:

1. Took your mom on a date.
2. Was grouchy, or so I'm told.
3. Drank beer in another state.
4. Forgot my keys.
   
5. Wondered if my email was getting through.
   
6. six six
7. Messed up.
8. Had difficulty explaining why I didn't know how to fix the printer.
9. Considered spending even more money.

So that's that. I hope you're happy.

For those of you who are new comers, I work w/ a woman whom I have christened Fraeulein X. I consider her my archnemesis and have outlined her behavior here from time to time. Since a brief struggle we had involving a pull-cart and Chicago Public Schools, I've managed to keep her mostly contained. However, it is beyond my power to avoid her completely and even more beyond my power to stop her from making strange noises that annoy the hell out of me. At this point, I consider any utterance that escapes her a strange noise--to include animal-like squeals, distressingly orgasmic moans and what she probably considers her art of conversation.

Lately, she's taken up a new habit which has been grating me to no end (admittedly, it's better than those horrible, horrible moans). What she does is whenever anyone says anything to her, she repeats it back as a sort of question. For example:

Human: "It's so hot outside"
Fraeulein X: "Oh, isn't it so hot outside?"

Human: "I love these cookies."
Fraeulein X: "Oh, don't you love these cookies?"

I'm not exaggerating. She repeats back exactly what you said verbatim plus the addition of one retarded syllable. One day, I think I'll record her talking on the phone and play it back to her. I mean, there's no possible way she'd continue talking like that if she knew how stupid it sounded. Well--actually, she would. This is Fraeulein X we're talking about here.