2001-08-08 3:14 p.m. Some poor shlep has been stuck on the shoulder of Route 100 for damn near two hours now. He alternates between sitting in the passenger seat, yelling into his cell phone, laying in the grass off to the side of the road, and staring at his engine with bewilderment. I know this because I am all of 300 feet and four floors away. This guy would have my total sympathy too. One of the hottest days of the year, a busy highway, no relief in sight. He would have my sympathy, if it weren't for those damn cell phone conversations. He's pissed. Really pissed. And not trying to hide it to whomever's on the other end. I, of course, can't hear what he's saying, but he looks like a jerk. So be nice, Mr. Man. Be nice to the person on the other end of the phone. It's not their fault you're stuck out here you lousy, broken-down fuck. What is it that makes me think that the Great Steak and Potato Company is going to somehow magically improve over the last time I ate there. It's crap. It's always been crap. If the food court merchants were the Hollywood Squares, GSaPC would be Bruce Vilanch. Or Jim J. Bullock. But, like the Squares, I keep coming back to GSaPC assuming that "it can't be bad all the time." Oh yes it can. And it is. Chicken Philly, my ass. More like Fecal Matter on a Soggy Bun. And what's up with Bruce Vilanch? When did he achieve "celebrity" status? What focus group said "Yep, we want him on our tube. At dinner time. In a black tshirt." Is his hair that way naturally, or was he the victim of some sad accident involving some rejected Vidal Sasoon products and a waffle iron? And why do I feel like I already know him. Like I'll be hanging out with the buddies one weekend, down a beer, look up at one of them and say "Waitaminnit! I just figured it out. *You're* Brucie V.!" These are the things I think about instead of doing my job. And as far as humping the vending machines in your office buildings? Not such a good idea. I think I may be known from now on as "The Pepsi Machine Humper." It all started out innocent enough. The aforementioned machine ate a dollar bill of mine and then proceeded to start making a really loud beeping noise. So I reached around to unplug it and plug it back in but the plaug was waaaay behind it, so I kinda had to press up against it. Sexual Harassment-close. And the plug wouldn't budge, so i had to, umm, yank a few times. And I guess it looked like I was getting all frisky with the machine, because I heard someone come into the coffee room and say "Oh my, excuse me." So, yeah. If anyone asks, I'm the Pepsi Machine Humper. But I'm gonna send it flowers tomorrow. I'm good like that, see. downtown----uptown leave me a note, fool!

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