ANOTHER CORNY ENTRY

Of course not. You're not me. You have no idea.

But hey ... just for fun ... try to guess.

Nope.

Uh-uh.

Pulllleeeezzze. I've been tired of bad drivers for years. Guess again.

Jeez ... we're going to be here all day if you keep making guesses like that.

Okay.

I'm sick of it being my responsibility to fund children's activities.

My own kid? Fine.

Total strangers' kids?? Not so fine.

At work the other day ... keep in mind ... I work in a fairly large place with over 100 employees ... this woman was taking time away from her desk to accost everyone in the building in order to raise money for her daughter's school.

...By selling popcorn.

Now then ... who had the bright idea to say in a meeting "Gee ... our schools are really dilapidated. The toilets in the bathroom are covered in a radioactive sludge and the roofs have holes in them the size of Paris Hilton's vagina. We need to raise money to fix these things. Hmmmmm...I've got it! Let's sell popcorn!!"???

Popcorn.

And not just any popcorn ... we're talking the already popped and bagged popcorn that has been sitting in a warehouse since Reagan was in office.

Nevermind the fact that you can go to your cupboard in the kitchen, open up a bag of microwave popcorn and have fresh, hot popcorn in the time of a commercial break.

THIS popcorn is cold!

And stale!

And only $12 per pound!!

And comes in a decorative tin!!

The decorative tin is enough reason to refuse to order this moldy crap in the first place.

They always have scenes of people riding around in a horse-driven sleigh in the snow on these tins.

Because nothing says "stale popcorn" like steaming horse turds melting the snow.

These are decorative tins that nobody in their right minds would ever use to decorate their home with.

"Gee Mary ... I love what you've done with your dining room!"

"Oh, you must mean my vast collection of hideous collective tins! Yes. It shows I'm a strong supporter of both the public school system and retina-burning tacky art!"

So anywhoooo...

This gal is making her rounds to each department to peddle the popcorn so that her daughter's classroom can purchase a chalkboard eraser.

She gets to our department and unleashes her mesmerizing spiel that covers all the points in what she's trying to do and gives you no other option than to buy some popcorn.

"Anybody wanna buy popcorn?" she mumbles, holding a sheet with names and phone numbers scrawled on it.

"Burt? Tina? Charlie? La'Quisha?"

They all just politely said "No thank you" and kept pounding away on their keyboards, being careful to avoid eye contact.

I was the only one who looked up to make eye contact.

BUT ... I had an edge that the others didn't have.

I'm still ... new boy.

And in a large office building ... not everyone knows my name yet.

She looked at me and mentally racked that brain of hers in order to remember my name and ask me BY NAME to buy popcorn.

I sat there in my chair, smugly yet silently inviting her to greet me by name.

I decided right there that if she could spit out my name and get it right ... I'd buy some of this gawdawful popcorn.

Her mouth was moving but nothing was coming out.

I grinned, broke the eye contact and continued typing as she stood there defeated.

She left the office and continued down the hallway.

Being New Boy has its advantages.