Wednesday, August 17, 2005
War Games
this is mean .... this is sadistic ... this is hilarious !!!!
War Games
by CKR
Right now I work in an office with only two people, so unfortunately, I have limited resources for work-time fun. Instead, I create it myself.
I currently have a competition going with the midget cleaning lady that tidies up the women's room. I have an obsession with blowing my nose. No, I don't do coke, I just like to have free and clear nasal passages. As a result, I use a ton of Kleenex, maybe a box every week to week and a half. My habit can get pretty pricey, because regular Kleenex is no longer good enough. I need the kind with built-in lotion, and you guessed it, for one reason or another, my lovely office building provides it. They supply us with toilet paper that feels like sandpaper, but the Kleenex is top notch.
One day my usual supply from Walgreen ran out, and it was pouring rain outside. Not about to ruin my new suede pumps for some moisturizer tree products, I went into the women's room and grabbed a few of those deliciously soft tissues. The box was nearly empty, so I figured, "What the hell?" and took the rest. Not five minutes later, I was happily ensconced in my tilt and swivel desk chair, when the cleaning lady walked by my door to restock the supplies in the bathroom. I don't think she was expecting to see the Kleenex box not only empty, but missing entirely. She had to make a special trip back to the supply closet to load up.
The next week, I ran out again, so again, I went to the ladies room and took the box of Kleenex. Skip a week ahead and repeat one more time. As I went to lift the box out of the holder, I noticed a little note written in broken English on top of the box.
"Tissue here for ladies - you no remove. Property of bathroom."
Now, the last time I checked, bathrooms, being more or less inanimate objects, can't retain or own property. Perhaps in Mexico they can, but not in Chicago. I took this as a sign to take the box anyway, and left a Post-It with a smiley face in its' place. Each time I take the box, I leave some kind of note or doodle. Yesterday it was a big pair of lips drawn in pink hi-liter. I can't help but giggle every time I see my gal shuffle off the elevator past my door to replace yet another box of contraband Kleenex.
Please lord, send me some coworkers so I can stop tormenting Guadalupe.
War Games
by CKR
Right now I work in an office with only two people, so unfortunately, I have limited resources for work-time fun. Instead, I create it myself.
I currently have a competition going with the midget cleaning lady that tidies up the women's room. I have an obsession with blowing my nose. No, I don't do coke, I just like to have free and clear nasal passages. As a result, I use a ton of Kleenex, maybe a box every week to week and a half. My habit can get pretty pricey, because regular Kleenex is no longer good enough. I need the kind with built-in lotion, and you guessed it, for one reason or another, my lovely office building provides it. They supply us with toilet paper that feels like sandpaper, but the Kleenex is top notch.
One day my usual supply from Walgreen ran out, and it was pouring rain outside. Not about to ruin my new suede pumps for some moisturizer tree products, I went into the women's room and grabbed a few of those deliciously soft tissues. The box was nearly empty, so I figured, "What the hell?" and took the rest. Not five minutes later, I was happily ensconced in my tilt and swivel desk chair, when the cleaning lady walked by my door to restock the supplies in the bathroom. I don't think she was expecting to see the Kleenex box not only empty, but missing entirely. She had to make a special trip back to the supply closet to load up.
The next week, I ran out again, so again, I went to the ladies room and took the box of Kleenex. Skip a week ahead and repeat one more time. As I went to lift the box out of the holder, I noticed a little note written in broken English on top of the box.
"Tissue here for ladies - you no remove. Property of bathroom."
Now, the last time I checked, bathrooms, being more or less inanimate objects, can't retain or own property. Perhaps in Mexico they can, but not in Chicago. I took this as a sign to take the box anyway, and left a Post-It with a smiley face in its' place. Each time I take the box, I leave some kind of note or doodle. Yesterday it was a big pair of lips drawn in pink hi-liter. I can't help but giggle every time I see my gal shuffle off the elevator past my door to replace yet another box of contraband Kleenex.
Please lord, send me some coworkers so I can stop tormenting Guadalupe.
