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Personal Testimonial For Power Bars

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

So yesterday I am pulling out laundry from my washer and an enormous rat (the largest I have ever seen with a span of over 9 inches sans tail) ran out from under it. It was so large I don't even know how it pulled itself out from underneath the washer. I am NOT exaggerating... giant freaking rat in my basement streaking across the floor, not even sure what I saw...capybara journeyed over from S. America and somehow ended up in my basement and I don't know how he burrowed into the house. I tell my husband about it. Of course he doesn't believe me on the size but I AM NOT EXAGGERATING. That very night he hears it in the wall, digging, nesting, biting, scraping and he starts to believe me. This afternoon Jim comes to me and tells me he knows why that damn rat is so big. The rat is a rat that is now physically optimized as he has a penchant for energy bars and has discovered our motherlode. Apparently he's a little body building rat that has been snacking on a huge box of power bars. All the wrappers are scattered about and not a crumb is left. We are talking about one physically fit rat. Yes Sir. This rat is no normal sized rat. He has feasted on over ONE DOZEN power bars. Think of what that does to a human. No doubt he would break any rat trap in two with his hard little rat body so we have turned it over to the Rat Zapper...on its way in the mail today.

Today we are mourning the loss of our Tanya. We are trying to replace her but no one has fit the bill quite yet. It is rather like when you were 16 and your best friend had to move to another state...finding a new best friend took months, years, maybe you are still thinking about her.

I am a totally clueless person. I admit it. My tagline is not accidental. I am so uncool but not uncool enough to be cool. I am just not cool. I don't know what is what and all. I generally feel uncomfortable around people and my favorite time is when I am alone. So...

I get a call from a paper as they are doing an article on political infant tees. I pass on the names of all the customers in the NYC area who have ordered political infant tees in the last month and I get an email from one of them telling me the reporter was leading her to say something about what it means to put her child in political shirts at such a tender age and because I have no idea which way the paper leans as I read nothing these days because I spend all my time doing tedious chores like fending off giant rats, washing clothes, bookkeeping, child rearing etc; I click over to the paper in question and on the COVER is my old boss Nick Denton. I am like, wow, the last time I heard anything about him he was running some network of porn sites. Shows you how much I know. Heh. Gawker Media is what blogging is all about. Tidbits of voices grouped by together by whatever fuel your habit might need. Too much fun and inescapable once you have entered. Plus, apparently Nick throws one fantastic party!

All I remember about Moreover is writing some report about how our search technology was all that, how Nick/David were into getting Blogger and how my stinky-assed dog (the marketing mgr asked me to please never to bring my little beast back into the office because he would go and stand next to her desk and release the most noxious of odors) went in poo pooed in the board room before an important meeting between Nick and some press people and I was out to lunch and my coworker Julie tried to cover the offending matter up with a napkin but it still stunk up the entire meeting room. Igor never came back...What was interesting though was that the meeting room was all glass so I could see my dog's shit covered with a napkin while the meeting was going on. The napkin fluttered a bit. I remember that too. The fluttering.

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