I was bored with WPFW and scanning radio stations when I landed on the classic rock station, which was playing the Rovers cover of that American Irish pub favorite, Shel Silverstein’s Unicorn Song.

As if this wasn’t odd and amusing enough, I realized when the last chorus started that many people in surrounding cars were sort of dancing along. In their cars. And presumably sober.

I was near tears watching the Boomers act out “cats and rats and elephants” as they waited for the light to change. I think it may well have been the single weirdest (and funniest) thing I’ve ever seen while driving to work.

The same co-workers who complained for an hour this morning about how Christmas should not be a holiday because it caters to Christians have now shifted to complaining about working on the day after Christmas and how unfair it is.

Dr. Noodles and I have decided to just turn our offices into a bunker (not exactly a stretch of either the imagination or available resources) and play loud music all day to keep everyone away.

Squirrel Relocation Plan Backfires

28th St. N., 6900 block, March 18. Responding to a report of a resident trapping squirrels in a back yard, an animal control officer met with the resident, who said that squirrels had been eating and destroying a garden. The resident had been trapping the animals (allegedly without a permit) and relocating them, but it did not seem to be working. The officer explained that when wildlife is removed, other wildlife moves in. The officer suggested placing a bucket of ammonia near the area as a deterrence.

I wonder if I could deter my co-workers by placing a bucket of ammonia outside my office door?

plucked from the ashes of the punkprincess.com archives, reposted 02-28-07

We used to have an office fish. His name was Fluffy. We had him for about 5 years. Sometimes, Fluffy had a white spot on his head. Other times it was on a fin. Other times he had no spot at all. You see, Fluffy was a magical fish.

Or, it’s possible that sometimes Fluffy went kaput and was secretly replaced by whoever had weekend fish-care duty. When we finally got tired of keeping up the facade, a coworker who we thought was smarter than that got very upset when he learned that the fish we were burying was actually Fluffy the 7th.

This is why we don’t have an office fish anymore.

My coworker gave me today’s goal: work the phrase “spicy suction cups” into as many conversations today as possible, as naturally as possible. Didn’t work. I had a perfect opportunity, but when I opened my mouth I found myself speaking only in Blondie lyrics. Then I couldn’t stop doing it. Clearly, it’s Monday.

Incidentally, I continue to believe that “Rapture” is one of the dumbest songs of all time.

Fade away and radiate, y’all.

Narrow lunch-time escape: a colleague with 6 ROLLS of grandchild pictures. Thankfully, I needed to cut lunch short to get to a meeting and got away with just viewing one roll. 36 shots of the child sleeping. The same child sleeping. 36 shots of the same child sleeping in the same place, just in 36 slightly different positions.