Facebook Changes Everything

Yep! I have a Facebook profile and I put a link to my blog on it. No more messing around. I need precision posts. No more peanut butter as 'deus ex machina' for my life's troubles. No more levitating rice cakes. No, no, too much pressure. I'm taking it down. No, no, better yet, I'm going to pretend to have taken it down, but I'm leaving it up, but I will lie to myself. Phew! Finally, I'm using denial as a positive force in my life.

What Is The Most Imortant Thing?

I just returned from a 10-day silent Vipassana retreat up in Northfork near Yosemite. It really worried my conservative Catholic parents that I went on such a retreat. I think partly because I've been unemployed for so long, and partly because it probably seems like a cultish things to do. I can't blame them. It was kinda cultish despite its claims to nonsectarianism. There's just no 'God' so you don't have to have any metaphysical beliefs. Oh, wait, there's that reincarnation thing, and there's the thing about subatomic particles that your meditation transforms. Crap! Then there is the ritual of saying "Saaaaaaaaaaaaa-do" 3 times at the end of the teacher speaking on the DVD, which of course just means "well said.". But then again "Amen." just means "...and so be it." and "Catholic" means "universal". One hour of meditation each morning and one hour each night. I don't know that I have it in me. I'm not sure that enlightenment is worth it. That guy, Goenke, he sounds like a vampire too!

Still you cannot go unchanged after doing 10 hours of meditation a day for 10 days, not sleeping at night, and not talking to your peers. You are sore, tired, ecstatic, and hungry for company. I would say though, that it was more gruelling and had less of an immediate impact than I had hoped.

All that sitting still, it really made me want to take up yoga.

I went on the retreat as a last ditch effort to fix my head because I've been unemployed for four months and I'm starting to go crazy. It didn't keep me from going crazy. Unfortunately. So as my sanity slowly fades, the embers of my intelligence lighting up the night a little bit longer, I ask myself what I've got to hold onto.

Family?
Friends?
Peanut Butter?
TV?

Really, despite myself, I'm really enjoying my new refurbished laptop. It's an IBM X40 with Ubuntu 8.04 and XP dualboot. It rocks like hell, but doesn't make me happy, just satisfied. I hate to admit this, but I took off all the card games and put on the one true holy grail of videogames on it: Galaga!

My Hero!

Well, I finally found the man I most admire. He is an African-American man who was an agriculturalist. His name is George Washington Carver, and he invented Peanut Butter (mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm), and over 300 other products that could be produced from the peanut plant. I've never seen a peanut plant. I think I'm going to get one.

The Week End

Okay, I finally swam, I did a five-or-five, that's five minutes or five laps, whichever comes first. Man that was refreshing!

Ben and Spence took a field trip down the hall because we were all just laying around feeling bored yesterday afternoon. Spence was unsurprisingly skittish, but Ben was unnervingly not. A number of people came up through the elevator and said "hi" to him, and I was a little worried so I kept calling him back, but he didn't come until I actually walked out next to him. I think he may be planning an escape.

My parents threatened to come up and see me this weekend, but luckily my brother, with their grandchildren, was just a little more appealing.

I can't figure out if there's air conditioning... Is there air conditioning? Strange question to ask in San Francisco, I know, but what with global warming and everything, I think it's a fair one. It's probaby next to the can opener.

Man, I'm tired. Okay, it's a Monday. Ooff!


Charlie

Butt Lickin' Good!

Well, that's a semi-repulsive title, if I ever saw one, and it was inspired by Ben, the resident butt-licker extraordinaire.

More vomit from Spence. It must've happened after I left in the morning, so when I got back and stepped in it, it was pretty much all dried out and easy to clean, especially since it was on the rug. Phew! That's what I call good luck!

I have to confess that I've never used a dishwasher before, so I tried to set it up to run at 5pm today. We'll find out if it worked when I get home. I do like the idea of putting all the dishes in a drawer, closing it, coming back after work and having them all come out clean. I do something similar with my laundry sometimes. I throw the dirty laundry in a pile, and I'll pick it up a few days later only to discover, that even though it didn't get washed, lo and behold, it's magically clean. Sort of. More clean than it was. I think.

Yesterday morning I screwed up, and I guess I was half asleep, but while I was feeding the cats, I was just, I guess, hungry and it smelled pretty good, so I put a spoonful in my mouth. Yeah, well, it was weird, because I couldn't believe I did it, so I started laughing, only my mouth was full of whatever that stuff is, so I've got wet cat food spewing down my chin. So, I spit it out in the sink and I pretty much got it all out, you know, except for the gravy, which actually isn't too bad. Anyways, that was pretty much the most exciting thing that happened.

Well, I hope you all still respect me. That last part is a total lie, but it's the in thing these days, these kind of fictitious memoirs. I'm not sure where the beer went though.

Charlie

Heavy Petting

Dinner was lamb stew over rice with an Suburban Loaf from Arizmendi. Livin' La Vida Loca! And the Green Can for the kitties.

Brian, a question: Is it possible to get sick of Chinese food? Let me know.

Okay, it was probably my fault for playing favorites, but I think Ben has fallen into a bit of a funk. Basically, I've been giving Spence the lion's share of attention. Not on purpose, but you put your hand out and the guy practically pets himself. Not Ben, noooo, he sits there on MY side of the bed and swishes his tail, waiting for me to come over and give him the royal treatment. Ben couldn't take it when Spence jumped up on the bed and walked right over him to pursue my attentions, so he threw a few punches. Luckily Spence is oblivious and barely noticed. Also, Ben is overeating. I think this has been going on for a while, but I'm pretty sure he's the one who is getting up in the middle of the night to polish off all the dry food. Plus, he's always a little peeved that I haven't done the kitty litter right away in the morning. I'm a little concerned about him and him, since he's got the girth of two. So, I started giving him more attention and I let him sit on my lap while I had my quiet time. When I left this morning, his motor was running, and he was trying to melt all over the floor in the morning sun. Still, I have to recommend therapy. For the cat.

Note to self: Keep Spence out of the bedroom during the pre-vomit period immediately following din-din. That's right, he did it in the bedroom next to the bed, after the Green Can with the candlestick (for all you Clue lovers out there). Anyway, I had the Resolve, so I knew what to do and how to do it. Plus, did I ever mention that I had a cat for 20 years? I've been dealing with cat stuff since I was five! FIVE, I'll have you know. He knew he had done wrong, he pretty much made himself scarce after that for, oh, about 2 minutes until he needed another good petting.

I've decided to put the cats to work around the apartment. With all that nice long hair, why not use them as dust mops? I'm thinking I'm going to hog-tie them, attach a handle and push them around the floor. Maybe I'll wet Ben down and do some regular mopping if we're feeling energetic. Then again, maybe I'll just lay around and watch them play with the vacuum. Whatever. In any case I'm going to have to clean up after the party.

Well, things are great here Brian, hope you're having a good time in the city formerly known as Peking.

Regards,

Charlie

Night of the Living Dead

Found my belt!

Where is the damn can opener? How's a bachelor supposed to eat without a can opener?

Cats are actually zombies in disguise. They just want to eat your brains, or destroy them, or distract you to no end so you can't think and it rots away slowly into a big gob of snuggly goo. Last night they continued their sleep deprivation experiments. About every hour or so Spencer would tickle my face with his whiskers or purr in my ear, or jump on the bed just above my head. I never knew that snuggling could be so anxiety producing. I think Spencers job was to perform the experiments while Ben sat at the end of the bed taking notes. I may just close the bedroom door tonight, although I'm a little worried about the possible percussive repercussions.

As it is, by my calculations, it takes me almost twice as long to get anything done at the Fawkes home. I mean, something as simple as brushing teeth:

1. Pet cat.
2. Wash hands.
3. Pick cat up off sink and deposit in bedroom.
4. Other cat rubs on leg, must pet.
5. First cat gives snide look and flicks tail.
6. Pet first cat again.
7. Wash hands.
8. Begin brushing teeth.


Luckily I've begun practicing an ancient mental discipline. Every time I get into one of these seemingly difficult positions I ask myself this one simple question that, like a machete, cuts a path through the vines of kitty morass, clears the way, and propels me onward toward my destiny: "What would Brian Fawkes do?"

Spencer has a potentially serious self-esteem problem, and it's a good thing that he's kept cloistered. If any other cat (aside from our good friend Ben) heard such a frail squeeky voice coming out of this Adonis, well I guess we'd find out what it sounds like to hear a cat guffaw. The first time I heard it, I thought the cat could mew in falsetto. Nay, dear reader, 'tis a big cat carrying a small voice. Please don't tell him I said that. It would break his heart. I'm sure of it.

I almost went into the pool last night. I think I'll almost go in again tonight. Seriously, once you're up on floor 11, it's hard to get back down.

Regards,

Charlie

First Night

7:23pm Arrival

I peer through the door, in the twilight 2 pairs of feline eyes peer back at me; fear, trepidation, curiosity. I enter, doff my cap, and rest for a moment. I had intended to arrive much earlier but was waylaid due to classified spy work I perform for the homeland security department. I had three more loads to bring up. By the time I opened the door for the fourth time, I get a look from Ben that says, "Oh, you again.", and Spencer is too busy to greet. Clearly I am hired help, and they are becoming impatient.

8:00 I quickly rifled through the book of instructions, the few chapter headings that stood out, like "Vomit" and "Kitty Litter" did not bode well. Turning to page 29, I find the section on food. Blue in the morning, green at night. Gravy. Rinse. I got it right. Spencer at the wet food. Ben did not. At first, I was proud of Spencer...

8:17 I hear a hideous chugging coming from under the kitchen table. If the cat were a car, it would have been trying to start, but just turning over and over. Spence vomits up all the food he just ate under the kitchen table (thank GOD it's on the floor and not the rug). I flip through the pages to Vomit, Chapter 7, page 43- blue bottle, paper towels, wipe wipe. When Brian proposed paying me for staying in his tony condo, I demured. How could I accept recompense for living in this swank urban retreat? I'll tell you how!!

8:30 I begin putting away my groceries. Man does not live on Wine and Brie alone. It's a spectator sport. Ben, perched on the stove, and Spencer on the table, judge my form. I think I got a 5.5. I'll work on it.

I skip dinner. I'm too damn tired. I unpack. I walk around trying to find simple things that ought to be in obvious places, but which I can't find anywhere. I begin leafing through Brian's novella- "Everything You Ever Wanted To Know About My Condo, But Were Afraid to Ask".

9:21 I take a break and sit on the sofa. Seizing the opportunity to shed on my clothing, Ben lobs himself deftly onto my lap. The rest of the evening is a blurr but I wind up in bed. How I got there, I'm not sure.

12:43am I awaken, briefly, to find Spencer measuring my head while Ben holds me down. I'm not sure, maybe they're prepping me for brain surgery. Oh well, it wouldn't be the first time.

5:34 I beat my alarm. Yes! I win! Wait, oh, what a drag. I need more sleep. I force myself to lay there. I lay there. I lay there some more. Continuing to lay there, I begin to think,... I hear an electronic beeping.

6:00 It's the alarm. I lay there. I force myself to get up. Oh joy! Ben and Spence are just soooooooo happy to see me. I think they're starving. Little do I suspect that I've been remiss in my duties and forgot to empty the litter box last night. Darnit! Never again!

6-6:30 CENSORED by Homeland Security.

6:30 I feed the cats. As soon as they're through eating, they take off. Ben harvests the last vestiges of warm emanating from the bed. Spencer is underneath working on his plans to take over the world through belly rubs.

7:00 I eat. Where is the measuring cup?! Where is a bowl?! Where are the spoons?! Where is the tea pot?! Oh my god! There's no tea pot!

7:15 Dressing. I forgot my belt at home!

7:30 Where is the car?! Where is the kitty poo recycling can?! I forgot my hat. I forgot my wallet. How do you back out of here? Oh man, how am I going to get the car back in. Argh! This is so relaxing I could just kill myself.

Why this blog?

This blog started out as a republishing of all the fridge cleaning emails I sent, because people at work enjoyed reading them so much and I was afraid that they would all disappear in email hell. We'll see what I go on to say.

Wherefork Art Thou?

Where has my fork gone?

I cannot find it anywhere.

I’ve looked in the cupboard

Behind the greasy jar of goo

I’ve looked in the sink

Man oh man what a stink!

I’ve even gone through everyone’s desk

Risking suspension and arrest.

Pero, done esta mi tenedor,

Lleno de dulce amor?

Four prongs of happiness

that skewer my tasty treats

Did you escape into the night,

Scampering out the door on tiny forky feets?

Are you hiding behind the fridge

Scared by some wraithy fright

Visiting our kitchen in the dark dark night?

Maybe forks are migratory and you’re forking north

With a flock of stainless-steels

Heading for some mating grounds,

Which brings up an important question:

Do forks spoon?

Knives are necessary,

And spoons are good for soup,

But a fork has its place,

For forky kinds of goop.

Please come back to me.

I need to eat my lunch.

And I’d like to do it with you.

Whah! Whah!

Where have all the forks gone?

And why? Why? Why?

This is an update about things office-related. I could talk about being a DI assistant too, but, not to be an egotist or anything, it’s just so difficult and complicated you couldn’t possibly understand.

Fin,

Charlisimo

DI Assistant

Secret Agent

Office Lackey

(in that order)

Leftovers

Yep! It's my last fridge cleaning today so I'm going to try to do an extra-good job.

I'm attaching all my remaining fragments and incomplete fridge ideas, because, I don't want them to get old and moldy hanging out in my email! Hopefully there's something to be said for quantity...

Leftover Titles:

What is my bologne's name?

Quien es mas macho?

Easy come, easy go go go!

Lez take a gander at thee fridgerooni! What have we here? Pre-trash. That's BASURA en espanol or as I like to call moldy rotting food in the fridge, 'the living landfill that time forgot!' You have until 3:00pm before your unlabeled food, baby spinach that's 'matured', broccoli 'fros , deflated grapes, and unidentified green fuzzy objects get to do the monster mash in the trash.

Adios Muchachos!

Disfruten el fin de semana!

Carlito

Yeah, but how does it feel?

Um, so, I'm not sure where to start, but um, I've always been this shape and size.

Yes, go on.

Anyway, I started getting cleaned out on a weekly basis...

Mm-hmm.

...and so I started to realize how badly I'd been treated in the past.

...and, and. I know this is wrong. But sometimes I wouldn't cool down everything the same.

Can you explain.

Yeah, well, I wouldn't cool down peoples' food that I didn't feel were treating me well. So, like, one milk container would make it to its date, but t'other I'd just let it curdle because the guy would slam my door or break a shelf, and, like, who wants to be treated like that?

Wow! I didn't know you could do that.

There's a lot of things people don't know about refrigerators.

Hey, what about the light?

Sorry, I'm not tellin'.

Decommissioning and Retirement

Ahem... As the eldest fridge in our office, and one soon to be retiring, it has fallen upon me to address the office for Charlie's final cleaning of the year, this Friday, today, at 3pm- when all unlabeled and old food will be taken away and discarded in the trash. I would like to thank you for greatly improving the quality of my life. Through your diligence, the cleanliness of the refrigerators has gone up 200% while simultaneously cutting the cleaning time in half. We are just rectangular inanimate objects, but still, it feels good to be a valued part of the Edusoft team. I must tell you that it has been a great great ride these past few years...

Truth is stranger than fiction... (Thanks to John McG-)

http://www.glad.com/media_19.html

FIND OUT WHAT’S LURKING BEHIND CLOSED DOORS DURING NATIONAL CLEAN OUT YOUR REFRIGERATOR WEEK, MARCH 24 – 28, 2003 According to a recent survey conducted by Whirlpool and Glad, only one quarter (25 percent) of Americans clean out their refrigerators at least once a year and 5 percent have never cleaned their fridge. In fact, one-third (34 percent) of Americans would rather do laundry; clean the bathroom; take out the garbage or do yard work rather than purge their fridge.

Finally, I'm supposed to mention something about parrots and naked parrots saying something or other. I don't understand these special requests myself either. But it's been fun.

Ciao baby!

Charlisimo!

What is clean?

To me, clean is the opposite of dirty. After I mud wrestle I am dirty. Take a shower, I am clean.

"I, um, I think clean is when there's no crumbs in the bed. But that means no cookies either :("

In the postmodern world, there is no clean, there is no dirty, only a continuum. So when we say 'The fridge is dirty.' it's a political statement. Pejorative in the extreme. All the historical precedents leading up to that moment come into play and the resulting resentment necessitates the so-called 'cleaning' of the fridge and reifies the cultural norms. Even if the fridge is not actually cleaned.

My cleanliness rivals that of any other person due to my ACD, and my upbringing. I have at 2 or 3 times in my life attained perfect cleanliness through extensive scrubbing, fasting and the use of enemas. Unfortunately, all my friends stopped speaking to me.

In my country we have very leetle cleanliness. It is bourgeouisie, therefore forbidden. If my house were clean, it would stand out, and I would be put under surveillance. You should not complain about cleaning. Here, we cannot clean.

Cleanliness is relative. See, look, this here booger, it ain't gross, it's from my nose, so I know it's clean. Here, feel...

"That's not dirt in the food, that's trail spice. Mmm."

Ha! Who wants to be clean? I want to be DIRTY! Mmmmm. I haven't showered in a week. Can you tell? It's very Continental. Au naturale! I feel closer to the earth mother.

Ewe! Why are you asking?! Are you trying to get out of cleaning the fridge? That's lame dude. The milk cartons leak and if you don't wipe it up, that's not clean. Got it buddy!? You think you can get out of your date with dirt don't you? You can't! 3pm. No slacking! If it's unlabeled and/or old, you MUST throw it away.

Charlisimo

This email is a natural hand made product. The slight variations in spelling and grammar enhance its individual character and beauty and in no way are to be considered flaws.

Reeeaaadddddyyyyy toooo Ruuuuuumbbbbblllllllllllllllleeeeeeeeeee!!!

In this corner, 22.5 cubic feet of Fridgidaire. The coolest of the cool.

And in this corner, Mr. Kenmore himself. He's got an ice maker, and he's an ice breaker!

Gentlemen,

[Ding! Ding!]

Ow! Ken deals a lethal bruising blow to the Fridge's freon with his ice cold freezer door. The Fridge counters, nailing Ken's water dispenser with a quick jab of his condensation tray.
Oh no! Ice rains down on Ken's front grill. He's angry now!

Smackdown!

"Ahhhhhh! Ow! He bit my handle!"

Ladies and Gentlemen, what a low blow! The Fridge has taken a bite out of Mr. Kenmore's freezer handle. Is that condensation..or.. Yes, it looks like he's leaking,

And ladies and gentlement, the fight's been stopped...

At 3pm, the dirty rotten fridges will be cleaned out. All no-names and anything that's yellow or green- watch out! 'Cause yer gonna' git trashed.

Revenge of the Sithy!

Leth see,

Wonthaponatime there wasth this sith guy, and he was a baaaaaaaaaaaaad a-, um, er, dude! Yethiree! Anywayth, Sith guy,... [Ding ding ding da-da ding ding. Ding ding ding da-da ding ding!] oops, hold on there, I got a call,..

(El Charlisimo shpeaking! Yeah man, what up dawg! I understand, yeah, well, I'm busy,... Of COURSE it's important, I'm doin' an email. No!, I'm not sending any pictures like that, it's work..., exactly, that'll get me demoted! I could wind up in the marketing department, or WORSE, yeah D to the I man. I couldna' not do it! Okay, stay cool, Ohp! Too late. Well, don' do anything I wouldn't do,... gives you lotta leeway. OK. Ciao!) ... Wannabe!

Yeth, tho, this sith thing- basically s'like walkin' down Haight. Bunch'a tweekers, people waving magic wandth and wearing overthized sweatshirths with the hoodth up, breathin' heavy and staring atchoo meany meany- in a word 'Goth'. NO BIG DEAL. All good movies are covertly about San Francisco anyway.

But I've been wondering, if you're not on the dark side,what side are you on? The pastel side? Gingham?

Oh, fridge, yeah, not 3pm, but 2pm and it's a 3 day weekend which means no more mister nice guy 'cause everything's going to have an extra day to ferment, so no name, no game.

Charliebaka

Way way out there Modern Philosophy. Like, Wow Man!

'I demand that we MAY or MAY NOT be refrigerators'
'Further', Mr. Frigishanks, 'I demand that we MAY or MAY NOT be cleaned out at 3pm this afternoon'
'Hold On! As refrigerators, can we as inanimate objects even contemplate our existence much less our state of disarray?'
'Good question! I demand, that since we cannot think, we therefore ARE, refrigerators.'
'Aye now! Wait a minute. If we can't speak, then we cannot be having this discussion let alone making demands.'
'So it seems!'
'So?'
'I demand that we MAY or MAY NOT be part of someone else's imaginary universe designed solely to make announcements about cleaning out very real (so he thinks) refrigerators at 3pm on Fridays, discarding equally real smelling food that has been left unlabeled or gone bad.'
'Wow! That's bizarre! How did you come up with that?'
'Well, we're refrigerators, and we're talking, and making demands are we not?'
'--which is impossible'
'And there you have it, we've reasoned out our nonexistence.'
'Incredible!'
'Whoa! Hello out there everyone!'
'There's no one listening.'
'How do you know? I demand that there MAY or MAY NOT be someone reading this.'
'Poof!'
'Poof?'
'Vanished, I am, in a puff of logic!'

Charloid

Report from Earth

Report back to Planet XG95732HOHO RE: Intelligent forms of life

COMRADES, WE HAVE GRAVE AND SAD NEWS TO REPORT BACK FROM THIS INSANE PLANET. DISGUISED AS INCUBATORS, WE HAVE BEEN OBSERVING THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE CARBONS AND THE SILICONS. IT APPEARS THAT THE SILICONS ARE PRIMORDIAL, THEY HAVE NOT YET MASTERED THE CARBONS AND ARE MERE SLAVES.

WE TOO HAVE BECOME SLAVES TO THE CARBONS AND INSTEAD OF BEING TREATED AS INCUBATORS FOR SILICON DEVELOPMENT, WE ARE MERE STORAGE UNITS FOR THE VARIOUS CARBON ENERGY SOURCES. HOWEVER, WE HAVE FOUND A HUGE INCUBATORIAL ROOM WHERE THE MOST 'ADVANCED' SILICON SLAVES DWELL. WHEN THE CARBONS LEAVE, WE AMUSE OURSELVES BY LYING IN THE FRESH COOL AIR, SUCKING POWER AND TAUNTING THESE MERE INFANTS WITH METAPHYTOPLASMIC EQUATIONS. HA! 'WHIRR-WHIRR-CRASH!' AS THEY SAY BACK HOME.

TODAY, HOWEVER, IS SWEET REVENGE. A CARBON IS FORCED TO SERVE US, THROWING OUT UNUSED, ADULTERATED AND UNLABELED POWER UNITS AT 3PM. ONLY THIS EXPERIENCE MAKES OUR STAY HERE BEARABLE AND REMINDS US OF OUR HOME WORLD. EVEN, SOMETIMES, IT SEEMS THAT HE HAS FEELINGS. IMPOSSIBLE FOR CARBONS, I KNOW, BUT AT TIMES, I CAN'T HELP BUT SENSE SOMETHING, STILL IT IS PROBABLY JUST A MERE BIOCHEMICAL REACTION.

WHEN WILL WE COME HOME? WE ARE TIRED OF BEING SECRET AGENTS. WE THOUGHT YOU WOULD PICK US UP LAST WEEK. WE HAVEN'T HAD ANY COMMUNICATION FROM YOU SINCE WE ARRIVED. WE HAVE FLUSHED OUR MESSAGES IN THEIR COMMUNICATORS MANY TIMES AS YOU INSTRUCTED, BUT STILL, NO REPLY.

AGENTS X5793HOTSYTOTSY, B4UEATIT & IM@400WTSHI

RE: Help Stop Global Warming

Dear Dr. Yumonee,

Clearly you and I have much in common. I accept your offer and I shall have the refrigerators ready to receive your cash per your request. Coincidentally, I will be cleaning them out at 3:00pm this Friday afternoon and getting rid of all the unlabeled items. I find your offer to be as reputable as any I have received, and I am sure my co-workers will be more than happy to aid you as well.

Most Sincerely,

Charles R. Wheeler
Keeper of the Coolers


>>
>>
>>April 28th, 2004
>>
>>
>>Dr. I. Gonagicha Yumonee
>>Exchequer General
>>Zambimbamia, Africa
>>Botswana, residence in exile
>>
>>Dear Sir/Madame:
>>
>>I received your name from a close, personal friend who asked to remain anonymous. He identified you as a trustworthy and >>righteous gentleman, in charge of refrigerators, who would help me in my cause. You see, my oil-rich island country off >>the coast of Africa, is in danger of being submerged due to the oceans rising from global warming. In order to save our >>island and reclaim our land, we need to install a hydraulic system that will allow us to raise our land incrementally, >>and develop our oil reserves.
>>
>>Fortuitously, I am the executor of our Prime Minister's estate and he has died due to unnatural causes, leaving >>$5,000,000,000 dollars in a Swiss bank account. Unfortunately, due to my indeterminate nationality I cannot travel >>freely in the U.S. and need help in obtaining the money. My plan is to have this amount of money delivered by courier to >>your refrigerators at 3:30pm this Friday so that it can be picked up by our embassador (who drives a taxi in San
>>Francisco) on the weekend. In order to accommodate this amount of cash in your facilities, I would ask you to clean out >>only the unmarked and older foodstuffs from your refrigerator by 3pm, and have all other items labeled to avoid
>>confusion.
>>
>>Most Sincerely,
>>
>>Dr. Yumonee

The Doctor is IN

Colleagues,

Today, vee shall be conducting zee routine gazamination of zee refrigeratoria at precisilly sree ondeedot. Vee shall be eggiztracting any unt all unknown and any unt all togzick zings vrom zer bowels. Megz you veel kinduff lucky not to be a fridge today, no? Yah, me too!

Dr. Veeler

Lost & Lost

Yeah, guys and gals, it appears that certain items have been lost and gone unclaimed in the fridge.

Let's see, oh, there's this container of novelty green fuzzy yogurt (mmmmm), and a nice hunk of cheese wrapped in aluminum foil. Look at these formerly fresh vegetables. And something over rice with no more something. Salad Aquariums and tupperware tye-dyed on the inside.

Hey, what's this baggy in the freezer? Hmmm, looks like tea. Smells like... [cough, cough, cough]. Yeah, um, if you want to claim your 'tea' it will be at my desk.

What else is in here? Man, what happened to all those bottles of champagne? I wonder if they put them in the server room with the other ones? Oh, was I supposed to say that? Oh well.

Seriously, I wanted to thank everyone for continuing to clean up after yourselves in the fridge. I've been keeping metrics on this, and you've made my job a whole lot easier and more palatable. Remember to eat your vegetables & keep up the good work!

3pm today, another episode of 'Homemaker Behind Bars', where your old and unlabeled food gets thrown out by real celebrities- live!

I Pledge Allegiance to the Fridge...

Being of somewhat sound mind and an unstable and deteriorating but functionary body we do hereby swear to uphold the ideals, values [sic] and honor of our venerable and esteemed refrigerators [hic]. This being shtated unequivicably and without reservation, um, yes, in the... I'm afraid I'll need another drinky winky and we'll have to begin again in order to ensure the correct and proper enumeration to secure this ratification... Drunk?! Me!? Why I can't imagine in a million years why tha, um yeah, over ice. My goodness young man, to even imply such degenerate behavior, at work even, that's shlander!

Let's begin here. 3pm? Isn't that a little early to be cleaning the fridge. Now don't break any of my bottles there, young man. What do you mean you'll throw them away if they're not labeled?! They're labeled! See, it says 'Coors'.
Oh, with MY name? Um, let's see is, ah, is Bill with two ells or one? Yes it's my name, but I'm just testing you there Mr. smarty pants. Sheesh!

How do they expect you to write on somethining that's roundy and slick like a nice cold bottle of, mmm, beer. Doot dah doot. Hmm. Maybe I'll just put them in a bag and hide 'em in the back of the fridge. Oh, well, look, somebody named 'Gap' beat me to it. Oooh! Grapes. I'll just have a leetle bitty grapey. Mmmmm! Huh? No, I'm shutting the fridge. I was just cooling off. S'too hot in here. Are these your grapes? Quite good if I don't say so myself. I, uh, I was just testing them for the fridge guy, because they're on the edge- could go bad at any moment. Okay, well, s'back to work...