The Math Checks Out. I, However, Do Not

I am an MNUFC season-ticket holder, and despite not being able to go to even one home Match for the 2020 season, I still am an STH.  Thankfully the organization decided not to be greedy dicks and carried over my balance to pay for my season tickets for next year -- that is, if we're allowed into Allianz Field next year.  Who knows?

There were no refunds, however, so it was just a matter of figuring out how much I have already paid before the team froze monthly installments (for which I am charged on my credit card) for four months, then spreading that remainder over another 12 Months for what is now my 2021 ticket.  I reached out to a season ticket representative (serendipitously, I saw on Twitter that the person who was once my rep, with whom I was not following on Twitter, quit; thankfully I do follow MNUFC's Twitter, and I believe that account re-tweeted her farewell to the team) who told me all this and, consequently, my new monthly installment would be almost twelve bucks.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I looked through my credit card statement and saw that I was charged more than $35 in August, and then less than $10 in September.  It seemed obvious they were trying to make up for the incorrect charge.  But I thought that this new monthly charge of ten bucks per month was too high considering I was charged so much from my remaining balance (about $140).

I had to reach back out to the rep I reached out to before and asked what the heck was going on.  Turns out that SeatGeek did not apply the new monthly installment of twelve bucks because there was a screw-up and someone somewhere did not apply all the money I had already paid for my season ticket; that $35 was the amount of my old installment.  And instead of redoing the installment, SeatGeek and MNUFC apparently just went with it.  And so, with my new new remaining balance, spread out over 11 Months instead of 12, the rep said I will be paying about ten bucks through, uh, August.  And I just did the math and, yep, he's right.

All well and good.  My problem is with myself.  How in the hell did I screw up the math and believe I was being overcharged?  I did the difference thing -- $35 was $24 higher than what should have been my installment, but this new installment was only $2 below that old installment, and that means it would take more than 12 Months before I finally got even with the amount gouged out of me in August, and that didn't seem right ... but the math checks out, and I was wrong.  I swear if I were younger -- or if I actually thought it through -- I wouldn't've screwed up the math.  Dammit, there's something wrong with me.

Expenses Without Receipts

Starting from Sunday, October 4:

• Well, I stayed home all day on the 4th (first time in a long time), so I go back to Saturday the 3rd, where I stopped by *****a's place to get a handie.  Didn't go too well.  Let's just say a guy my age shouldn't masturbate the day before getting a handie from someone: $150.
• I then stopped by Sebastian Joe's.  It wasn't a warm day for a regular sundae, but it was sunny, and I have never had a regular sundae there.  Yummy!  With tip: $8.02.
• From here I go all the way back to Thursday, September 24, where ... well, I'll just be honest and flat out state that I picked up a dime somewhere on a day other than September 24.  I just chose it because I want to cluster all the days I spend money.  An Infusion of: 10 cents.
• The other thing I spent money on this day: I got my shoes shined at Lisa's.  With tip: $15.
• And now I travel back to Friday the 18th, where I got a double cheeseburger from McDonald's because it was National Cheeseburger Day.  Mickey D's was running a special day through its app, and so I had to pay only: 54 cents.
• I think I bought this just before talking with my shrink.  I was going to talk to him at a park close to work, but then I drove by it and saw there was no parking lot.  So I had to double back and finally speak to him parked at McDonald's.  Awkward as that was (I think people parked close enough to me to hear me talk to him), at least it was convenient enough for me to go back through the drive-thru and buy a coffee I needed to get through second shift at work.  Cost: $1.06.
• Tuesday the 15th -- yeah, I also don't know if I found these on this date, but I think I found ... well, crap, I don't really remember ... I picked up two coins, and I decide that those coins are a dime and a penny.  So, an Infusion of: 11 cents.
• On Saturday, September 12 I went to the library because Mother wanted me to print out some invoices.  It was weird being in an indoor place that I used to enjoy spending hours in.  But the staff there have done all they can to open up with as many safety measures as possible: Cutting down on the number of computers that could be used, spacing those computers apart, and cleaning the workstations once people got done.  For the invoices I paid: 20 cents.
• After that I went to the Cub Foods close to my house because they were hosting a few Minnesota State Fair vendors that set up shop there for that weekend.  There were three pop-ups there, and I eschewed the ... cheese curd stand (?) for, first, the Big Dog Corndog footlong hot dog.  I ate at their pop-up somewhere else (probably in New Brighton), but I had the corndog then, so this gave me the excuse to buy the other big thing on the menu.  With tip: $8.
• I then had dessert at Minneapple Pie.  Man, I tell ya, Minneapple Pie may be the most underrated of the "modern" foods at the State Fair.  They've been around for upwards of a decade, and if there is a god above, they'll be there for decades more.  Because that deep-fried apple pie with a scoop of cinnamon ice cream is so delectable I wonder why people hadn't thought to make it decades ago.  With tip I paid: $9.
• On Wednesday, September 9 I fucked ****e for: $120.
• On Labor Day I got a naked massage from ******a.  I think this was the time where I convinced her to massage me while I got naked.  Score!  Cost: $80.
• And now, to Saturday, September 5, where I went to Forgotten Star to buy a beer (was this the place where I got screwed over by that idiot worker?); with tip: $11.
• And I bought that beer because The Little Blue Food Truck was making its return to the brewery.  The line was a lot shorter since the novelty wore off.  But the food was still good, and I made a point to knock off all the food items I hadn't eaten yet: the pierogis, the spicy pork bowl, and the Swedish meatball sandwich (this was a good one).  I once again got the basil blueberry lemonade, an evergreen State Fair winner.  All told, with tips, the total damage was: $38.05.

Caught up through October 4.

What's His (My?) Problem?

On Wednesday I was working in The Third Department.  Did I tell you all that in order to get to The Third Department, I have to cut through Filing, which is where the guy who was complaining behind my back about things I did wrong while I was in Filing for second shift works in?  That was a big detail I think I've never said here in WAF.

I think this guy holds a grudge.  And I think he's petty enough not to forgive my mistakes and, in fact, want to bully or even punish me for them.  I know that I don't like it when people continually judge my work.  And when that somebody doesn't speak to me, about anything, he at least proves that he doesn't think everything is OK between us.  Well, maybe I need to take that back.  He's quiet.  So am I.  But when you add that to complaining up the chain of command, constantly, I can't tell if you are willing to be friendly with me.  Add that to the bad vibes I usually get from him when I'm working with him, and I don't think he deserves the benefit of the doubt.

So what do I do about it?  Well, not yell at him right in the middle of work, at least for now.  I'm not entirely clear that he thinks bad of me.  But neither am I clear that he thinks good of me.  So you do what you are supposed to do at work -- not say anything and do your job.

But that's hard to do when you have to pass through this guy's area to get to your desk.  Every run-in where he's filing something and I have to walk past him, every time we are both going through the door, every time he's going in and I'm going out -- every single interaction is a possibility that he'll passive-aggressively show he doesn't like me ... and, in order to defend myself, show that I will do the same.

It was a busy day, so such run-ins happened a lot.  And two stood out.  One: I was going into the room when he was going out, and we were at the pad to punch our key codes to go through the secure door.  Who opens the door and goes through first?  We both demurred and stood back thinking the other would go through.  We shared a brief look of, "What?"  He went through first.  Two: I had to leave to take papers into the next room.  He filed away something and ... I guess he was walking on the same path I was walking on my way out.  And we exchanged another look.  And I'm confident his look was one of, "So ... where you goin'?"  And I look him squarely in the eye and pointed right past him and said, "I'm going out."  And I walked past him -- but he didn't step out of the way for me.  So we almost, almost, bumped into each other.

About that: I think he expected me to walk around him.  I think he expected me to back down.  I interpret him thinking that me going around him was me backing down to him.  And ... no, I was not going to do that shit.

Yeah, I kind of think he's trying to get to me.  I do know, through my actions, I was sending a message I was trying to get to him.

I substitute in that area later this week.  May cooler heads prevail.  Namely, his.

Do They Know I'm Wearing No Underwear?

I went to get a HJ from *****a this afternoon.  Wanted to pack in a visit to the cemetery to see my date to the junior prom.  Promised her that I would visit her gravesite twice a year; my second visit usually is just before Labor Day, but I got busy, so I have been welling up with guilt not spending the 15 Minutes I usually spend with her all this fall.

One other thing kind of fell in my lap last night.  Father, out of the blue, asked me to call my uncle, who lives in Philadelphia and is, according to him, "lonely."  My uncle is Father's older brother.  He has a drinking problem.  He also doesn't know much English, and my Chinese sucks, so if I do call, it won't be much of a call.  But I haven't spoken to him in years, and he's getting up there, so I wanted to give it a shot.

Now, the question was, when?  I wouldn't know when I would be done at *****a's place, and I wanted to get home some time in the afternoon.  But the more important consideration I had as to whether or not I could call uncle and see my prom date is, well ... see, I wear my porno pants -- and no underwear -- when I visit my stripper girlfriends, because I'm perverted like that.  However, do I want to visit my prom date and call my uncle while not wearing underwear?  Isn't that, you know, weird?  No, neither my uncle nor my dead prom date knows that I'm not wearing underwear, and I sure won't tell my uncle, of course.  But I would know.  It seems so ... impolite to talk to them sans underwear, you know?

Well, I decided to to call my uncle and to visit my prom date at the cemetery after spending almost three hours at *****a's place (and eating ice cream).  I got home an hour later than I initially told Father I'd be home by when I left in the morning, and a half-hour later than the new time I texted Father I'd be home by.  Ultimately, I had plans not to go anywhere tomorrow, and if that's the case, it's best to just do both things today so I can ... do nothing (even though I should clean my bedroom) tomorrow.  Just don't tell my uncle and my prom date that when I spoke to them, I was going commando.

All Zoomed Out

So the Zoom about this alumni thing was last night.  I've been on a few of these now, both with my side and engaging with the other side.  And mostly because I find the subject at hand both daunting and complicated, this Zoom was like all the others -- contentious, boring and, ultimately, dissatisfying.  These meetings get more of all three the more I attend.  I'm not sure what we came away with, or even if we came away with anything at all.

That took 90 minutes.  After that us resisters had a debriefing/decompressing post-game Zoom which lasted another hour.  And while it was a tad more relaxed because I was speaking to people on the same side, a part of me wanted to listen to the football game on the radio.  We did decide to decide on things over the weekend -- kicking the can down the road, but that is not new when it comes to this matter.

I get tired after these Zooms.  Even moreso now.  And I should hit the hay after I blog post this.

Addendum To: The Belle Of The Ball ... Or Carrie At The Prom?

I should have added more to my previous blog post that alludes to the title, which is a reference to the book and movie Carrie.  I feel as though I am being lulled and lured in by people with smiles on their faces but a dastardly agenda.  I'll let my guard down and begin to smile, and then, boom! pig's blood will rain down on my head.  And that's where the similarity ends because I don't have supernatural powers to kill all my enemies.

What I should have succinctly said was I am frightened that this is a set-up to make me look really, really bad.  I don't know what I'm walking into.

The Belle Of The Ball ... Or Carrie At The Prom?

This college thing ... I have been personally requested to be part of the next working group meeting, which comes up tonight.  This request has come from the other side, which makes me worried.

See, as I think I've said before, I haven't been much of a contributor to these "negotiations."  I am, however, a representative for a part of the country my alma mater has relatively little presence in.  Part of the negotiations is finding a compromise in recruiting people who will represent the university, just not in a formal, official way as before.  (Sorry to be so vague; I don't think I can go into detail lest I get in trouble with the other side, plus I scantly understand this model myself.)  I have been told by the people on my side that is the only, anodyne reason.

But what if it's not?  We resisters have come to the conclusion that the head man on the other side, the president of the alumni association, is a conniving dick.  He was the one who made the unilateral decision to put down all alumni clubs in the United States.  And many of us hold him in low regard when it comes to negotiating over these Zoom meetings.

I am getting paranoid over the depths to which he will be underhanded.  So, I am afraid that he and/or the people who work under him have been busy digging up dirt on all of us in the resistance, including me.  And when the time comes, such as in a Zoom, he'll show up (which, by the way, he's not supposed to, because the number and the specific people who are supposed to be in these respective groups are set; he just popped up the last time this working group tried to work together, which was seen by us as a power/dick move) and go, "So, UW, I see that you have a hankering for ... eggplants!" and then he'll post screengrab after screengrab of me giving eggplant emojis to all the hot women I befriended on Facebook.  And then I'll get all embarrassed and then we'll be divided between people who think I'm a pig and people who think what I did doesn't matter in the face of these negotiations.  The other side would have successfully deployed a divide-and-conquer strategy, and the resistance to those who want to save our clubs would fall apart.  And this guy would laugh diabolically.

I brought up this paranoid fear with my therapist Tuesday, and he asked me why would the other side want to shame me and potentially cause me to cut ties with them permanently, thus making it harder for my alma mater to have any engagement in a lower-density part of the country.  He has a point, although I don't totally dismiss destroying any obstacles to this plan he wants to implement as the sole goal.  So, I go into tonight's meeting not believing the other side is completely acting in good faith.  Seriously, they want my input when I have offered little to none up to this point?  There has to be something up their sleeves.

Addendum To: Oh Yeah -- I'm Going To Be Yelled At At Work Today

Well, I wasn't.  Turns out that my new job with the Vikings (new job at least for now ... see below) was a lot less painless than I thought.

So my job was to relay down and distance.  I was doing so from the suite right to the left of the announcer's booth.  That suite, which is bigger than my dorm and a hell of a lot more opulent, was commandeered to enforce physical distancing; I and two other people, each of us at least six feet apart the whole game, had the run of the place.  (The other two guys, I think, were audio people.  The guy behind me needed me to stay seated so he could see the people wearing the parabolic microphones on the field.  Their equipment was strewn all over the granite-topped buffet table behind the three rows of leather seats overlooking the field, just left of the 50, at the perfect height to watch football.)  Of course, we were able to do that because fans were not allowed in the stands because large gatherings remain banned due to the pandemic.  (There were, however, 250 fans, mostly staff and family members of players, couched in, I think, one of the corners in the lower level.  I believe the state restricts gatherings in large venues to a percentage; it's the Vikings which had decided two weeks ago not to allow anybody and then to allow a smattering this past Sunday in the hopes of safely bringing in more people in subsequent games.)

When I got in (a little later than call because I was parking in a lot I had never parked in before, and it was on the other side of where I usually parked, so I needed directions to get around to the entrance) I introduced myself to the Broadcast Assistants to which I thought I would be giving down and distance to.  Turns out that even though other people could hear me, I was speaking to and working with only one person, a guy who was working remotely from the New York City area.  And thank Buddha and God and all the deities above that he was absolutely chill.  He told me what he needed me to tell him and what he didn't, and he seemed to be happy with what I gave him.  He even said after the game that he would recommend me to other crews.  I like that a lot.

One unfortunate thing that I should have realized much sooner.  I had complained from the start that I couldn't hear him.  I thought it was just something I would have to live with because of the crowd noise, which was being piped in and cranked up from the in-house production team even though there were only 250 fans (it was weird to see the Vikings go through many of their pre-game rituals -- the ship, the pyrotechnics, the defensive starters running out onto the field, The Skol Chant, the "blowing" of the horn -- when those mostly stir up a crowd that was not there).  It was in the Fourth Quarter where I realized that the box my headphones were hooked up to had a volume dial.  Moreover, I have used such a device before, even though it had been a long time.  Moreover, I used those boxes back in college, when I was in the journalism program and, when I was helping with production, I had used them.  I totally forgot there I could hear him if I just turned up the volume.  I am ashamed.

Still, if I take this guy at his word, I did a good job, and maybe, possibly this will lead me to assume this post from now on.  Furthermore, I need to understand how big of a break I had with the circumstances leading up to this job.  Assuming I would be as late on the uptake to the volume dial, I would be fighting to hear this guy if he needed to ask me something through a torrent of 65,000 screaming people as I am trying to both communicate down and distance and see where the ball was spotted, probably through a sea of Vikes fans who are standing up while I have to remain seated.  And like I said, guys on production crews usually aren't cool like this guy was.  All mistakes I made were forgiven, and hopefully now that I have broken my cherry doing this, I now know a lot better what to do.  And thankfully so, because I should not need to have my hand held for the next guy, who may or may not as nice as the one who helped me on Sunday.

Bottom line?  Phew.

The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey

#-1: United FC (Last Week: -3).  It is kind of sad, although kind of apt for Twin Cities sports, that a team that lost and tied its screening week tops the survey.  Honestly there haven't been too many weeks where a moribund record like the Loons' is good enough for the top spot.  But there are bright spots, or at least non-abyss black spots, that make this side the week's clear winner.  First off, they haven't lost 17 postseason Games in a row.  Second, they did manage not to lose to Real Salt Lake at The Nest on Sunday.  And third, even though they're sliding down the Western Conference standings when at one brief point they led it, they still technically hold down a playoff spot and sit only five Points short of the top spot (although they are only three Points clear of ninth place).

But MLS the previous week laid out the final phase of the revamped 2020 regular season, and it'll be a gauntlet of Matches the next five-plus Weeks to survive.  This week feels like a dangerous one, as they will face second-year club FC Cincinnati at home Saturday night, then visit expansion team Nashville SC Tuesday.  Don't overlook them, MNUFC -- arguably both squads are playing better than the Loons right now.

#-2: Vikings (Last Week: -4).  Yeah, a team that coughed up a 12-Point lead in the Third Quarter sit second in the WMNSS.  I watched the Game and, even though this is damning with faint praise, this is the best they've played so far this season.  The Bastard Houston Oilers may be a paper tiger.  But the ViQueens showed very little competence in the first two Games, and so what I saw (from suite level, just to the left of Midfield) felt like a massive step forward.  Now, the Defense looks awfully raw, especially in the back-to-back drives where Tennessee was able to throw over the middle at will and Derrick Henry was regularly deployed and punched in both scores to take back the lead.  And while the Offense finally started to go -- Dalvin Cook ran for a career high and Justin Jefferson broke out (this is the first NFL Game in history where a team had a player running for 175+ Yards and another catching for 175+ yards -- too bad it was in a loss) -- the team couldn't answer as the Titans mounted their comeback.  And oh, that drive to win the Game late was a clownshow.  The trenches remain a big weakness for this team.

And yet that might not be the organization's worst problem right now.  It was revealed today that several players and staff members of The Bastard Oilers tested positive for COVID-19.  So now the Vikings have had to shut down operations at Twin Cities Orthopedics (TCO) while the whole business awaits coronavirus test results.  And still, as far as I know, Sunday's Game in Houston is on.  Those correct-minded people who didn't think the NFL season would go without a 'Rona-related hitch was afraid shit like this would happen.  And it has.  How in the hell are the Vikings going to prepare if they can't even train?  Well, they're 0-3 -- what difference does it make now?

#-3: Twins (Last Week: -1).  I ... I can't ... I fucking can't with this team anymore.  I just -- can't.  I should talk about the team coming back from losing three-of-four to the White Sox heading into the last week of the regular season and how they were able to win the American League Central Division anyway (although, to be completely honest, the Pale Hose collapsed in the last week and the Twinks didn't win it so much as backed into the division).  But Tuesday's shitshow (and I'm not talking about the debate, which I wisely chose not to watch) was ... fuck it.

This goddamn franchise, the one I should be referring to as The Bastard Washington Senators v.1.0., once again became scared little chickenshits come playoff time and have now set the North American record for most consecutive losses in the postseason, breaking a tie with the Chicago Blackhawks.  Seventeen fucking defeats.  Seventeen.  And for any Twinks fan who dared show loyalty to this fucking team, the way they lost yesterday was frighteningly reminiscent of other down-leg pissings in this goddamn streak; the only change is that the goddamn Yankees weren't the agent of oppression this time:

• The bases loaded jam in the First in which they failed to score a run;
• All the other opportunities this supposed "Bomba Squad" shit their pants and didn't score (I didn't see nor hear this Game after it started during my afternoon break, and thank Buddha);
• Tyler Duffey finally surrendering a Run and letting fucking Houston tie the Game;
• And then ... the fucking top of the Ninth.  With two out, Jorge Polanco wildly throws past Second Base in what would have gotten the Twinks out of the inning.  Instead, the bases were loaded, where ...
• ... fucking Sergio Romo, fucking hothead who gets the team into trouble, walks fucking cheater Jose Altuve with the winning Run ...
• ... and then Caleb Thielbar lets the Game get put away with a two-Run single to Center.
• Oh, and the self-inflicted dagger: With two on in the Bottom of the Ninth, Pinch-Hitter Willians Astudillo grounds into a Game-ending Double Play.

Everybody's to blame for this.  The players, absolutely, at the plate and on the field and on the mound.  Kenta Maeda, not so much, maybe; he threw only five and didn't allow a Run, but got pulled after 91 Pitches.  Rocco Baldelli's overreliance on advanced metrics made he look like a cuck getting shamed by bulls pulling a train on his woman.  Baldelli burned through five relievers, many of who will not be available for today's elim Game and, frankly, looked gas yesterday.  (Meanwhile, old-school Dusty Baker replaced starter Zach Greinke after four Innings and used only one other Pitcher, Framber Valdez, who got the Win.)  Yeah, we might as well blame the Pohlads for not spending any money on a redass Starting Pitcher who will tell the rest of the team to fucking man up and show them how to actually fucking win a postseason Game.

We Twinks fans knows how this ends.  Usually after a playoff Game where they had their chances but didn't have the sack to take advantage of them, the following Game they completely collapse.  Jose Berrios is not the ace this squad needs him to be.  He is imminently capable of giving up, like, four Runs over the first two Innings and eight over three and be pulled as Baldelli has to revert to a bullpen that has no good Pitches left, and so they'll give up another eight.  Today's final Game of the year will be an ugly one, and that will be emblematic of a franchise that has demonstrated so much postseason emasculation that fans would prefer to root for the Pirates, because that team will never raise your hopes just to dash them in such brutal, humiliating fashion.

Fuck The Bastard Washington Senators v.1.0.

#-4Infinity: Lynx (Last Week: -2).  Got swept by the Seattle Storm in the WNBA Semifinals, and the three Games were decided by increasing margins.  Turns out losing Game 1 on a putback with no time remaining really was a series-killer.  Also, not having Sylvia Fowles sucked, too.

Yeah, it's never good when a team finishes the season short of winning the title.  But considering where this franchise was and is, the future does look bright.  Napheesa Collier has backed up her Rookie Of The Year play and become the talisman of this squad.  Crystal Dangerfield, named this year's Rookie Of The Year, has shown she can play the Point and be a steady, even devious wing.  Witness her cold-blooded daggers outlasting Phoenix in the Second Round.  Damiris Dantas has shown herself capable of being a sturdy Big who can rebound and score when necessary.  And I'm fully confident that Cheryl Reeve will know what to do with the, well, Ninth Pick in the WNBA Draft and either select another good player or trade it for a sterling ballhandler or a rim-defending post.  Maybe Fowles will never suit up in a Lynx uniform ever again.  Maybe Maya Moore never returns to the Lynx, or even in the league; she could either retire or order Reeve to trade her to a team closer to her new home with her new husband.  And if they finally put the dynasty in the rearview mirror, that's OK, because there is new, young talent Lynx fans should believe could bring home another championship.

At least the Lynx fucking won a playoff Game this year.  Shit.

"Help Yourself"

So I've got three stories about free and/or found food at work.

First story

A few weeks ago -- maybe this was my first week working second shift -- there was free found lying around at a table.  I knew it was free because there was a sign saying "Help yourself"; I see that note lying around a lot whenever there is free found lying around a lot.

There were an ever-shortening pile of chocolate-dipped pretzels, which were easy for me to just pop in my mouth.  I ate several over the, uh, two days that plastic container was there.  But there were, when at least I first came upon them, a couple of ... uh, bomb pops?  Long sticks with, at the top, a ball, presumably of chocolate, but it was covered in white frosting.  Looked tasty, and it would be something I would totally take to eat.  However, I was late in getting back to work, plus I had other food to consume.  So I promised myself that if I had time after I ate, I would go check back, and if those bomb pops were still there, I would take an extra five minutes, sit down, and eat them.

So it was late one night and I snuck out of work because I needed to clear my head.  I snuck into the break room to look at the container of free food.  I was following some woman who was at the table where this container was.  She left; I looked in, and those pops were gone.  Looking up from the garbage can, she looked at me and went, "Those pops were delicious!"

"Fuck off!" I said.  No, I didn't say that.  But it felt clear to me that she was rubbing the fact that she got to the pop before I did in my face, even though I have no solid evidence she knew I wanted it and was waiting for the right time to eat it.  Nevertheless, my defense mechanism -- and my bitchiness -- roared up to the surface.  And even though I was trying to calm myself, I think what I said -- "You should not be saying that to me" -- still made my annoyance at her petulant behavior very clear.  Well, that and my raised finger.  Oh, and my frustrated tone, too.

And yet, I don't know if that is the smartest thing to do at work.  I'm sure she went back into the lab and told her co-workers, "Hey, I ate the last bomb pop in front of this guy, and I rubbed it in his face because I'm 12, and he's all, 'Don't say that to me, you bitch!' and I'm all, 'What's his fuckin' problem?'"  And now I'm getting the reputation of being a hothead, even though I was confronted by an adult acting like a child.  Fuck me.

Second story

Maybe that same week I saw, on the exact same table where the bomb pops and pretzels were, a pizza box.  And in it (of course I looked because pizza) there was more than half of the pizza still there.  I don't remember the toppings, but I do know that there were some, which is good because cheese pizza is absolutely useless, and that there was no pineapple, which is also good because mixing pizza and pineapple is an affront to humanity.  What I didn't see was a "help yourself" sign.  But dude, it's pizza -- if it's yours, why in the hell are you leaving it out on a table?  Put in one of the fridges if it's yours.  By that logic, me putting it in the fridge means that it's mine.  And that's exactly what I did.

And then, during one break, I look back inside the refrigerator and see that the whole box of pizza was gone.  So either I took a pizza that was "rightfully" someone else's, even though that person made the stupid decision to just leave it out on the table to make people think anyone could take it, or someone saw the pizza, didn't see a "help yourself" note, and decided to take it.

I really, really wanted to eat that pizza.

Third story

For the past several weeks (and this extends before my bit in second shift), someone has left free food, with "help yourself" note, on the table.  And it's been a lot of stuff ... but nearly all of it generic-looking.  First it was applesauce and these nutrition bars which does have a brand name of something called Zee Zees.  Never heard of them, but their food is good, although I don't know how this Santa Claus has procured so many of their food so often.

There has also been cookies from brand names I've never heard of and personal packets of processed, room temperature cheese, both of which I have taken home to eat.  Yesterday (and these drops usually happen on Mondays) was different: There was bread, a loaf of which had a brand name I was familiar with, and single-serving/hotel breakfast-sized packs of cereal.  I was going to take the Rice Krispies one, until I noticed the name was "Rice Crispies" -- ah, you almost tricked me, you generic motherfucker!  But instead I took the last Honey Nut Cheerios one, and I was sure to read the label, and it didn't say "Honey Nut Cherios" or some bullshit like that.

But seriously, where did all this free food come from?