Uggggggghhhhh. Let’s hear it for

Uggggggghhhhh. Let’s hear it for the beloved Coca Cola Company! If I weren’t feeling like Death Warmed Over, I’d be singing their praises quite loudly. As it is, I’m trying to pump myself full of their lovely read product, M&Ms and the Run Lola Run soundtrack.

Down the street from where I work (in the opposite direction from Harriet’s, Harri-et. Crap, here we go again), there is a velcro outlet. No lie – a store devoted to velcro. As I was wandering zombie-like past it this morning, I happened to notice their sign for the first time. “Velcro cutting and punching” it says. “Velcro punching”? Is that like cow punching? Or perhaps they hire Italian guys who beat up on big hanging slabs of velcro in the freezer.

I’d hate to be the new guy there. I imagine the guys with seniority get to punch the soft side of the velcro. It doesn’t seem quite fair. I mean, they’ve been punching the scratchy side of the velcro for this long, why can’t they do it for awhile more? Stop picking on us new guys!

Man, our drink guy had better get here soon.