Hi kids! Scott can't come to the blog today because he's stuck in a seminar about how to sign in and out on a timesheet. This is his identical twin, Fatty the Hutt, doing a guest blog spot to fill you in on his horrible morning.
It was a dreary dawn on the Upper East Side. Our hero left the house toting the shitty, cheap umbrella his union gave him to celebrate 40 years of ineffectual staff representation. "It's gray and wet," said the East River. "Enjoy your four-avenue walk to the subway."
Well la ti, after getting stopped at every light, he finally arrived and felt the familiar floppy-heelness of an untied shoe. Rather than sit in a puddle on the ground, he lifted his leg onto the low window ledge nearby when a deafening ripping noise tore through the air (pun) and actually caused a passing woman to turn her head. Yes. Scott had split his favorite pair of expensive jeans that were less than a year old. The woman said hello to his Superman underpants.
So he walked ALL THE WAY BACK home (15 minutes), changed into a new outfit (5 minutes), and walked ALL THE WAY BACK to the subway (15 minutes) and was now incredibly late for work so he figured since there was no line in Starbucks, an extra 5 minutes wouldn't matter. He was going to treat himself to his first Cranberry Bliss Bar of the season to take the edge off the morning.
Fifteen minutes later after the second time they screwed up his order: "No, SOY!" "Well do you want this one anyway, or I'll just toss it." "Only if you want me to have diarrhea all over your store from drinking the cloudy water you call skim milk."
So anyway... way late to work, stuck in a timesheet seminar that should take 5 minutes, needing to buy new jeans after work with money he doesn't have. I implore you, dear readers, to give our hero something to put the yay in his day and the perk in his work.
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