On pastries, poisons, and parking

Royals game last night (yay) and they won - in what felt like the longest game ever. And yet it clocked in at under three hours. But the final score was 2-0, with I don't know how many left on base. This made for a rather boring-feeling game. But they won, so that means $10 new sneakers for Mr. Smeddley at Dicks and they also got more that 6 strikeouts, which meant free coffee and Snickers for me at the Circle K (I had to stop and get gas, anyway).

But I didn't feel like a Snickers for breakfast, so I bought a Bear Claw pastry to go with my coffee (I shall have the Snickers later!). Sadly, when I went to open it, it opened too easily, and I noticed one end was a bit on the hard side. I guess the package sealer left a bubble, and it let air in. So I broke it in half and ate the still-moist half. I figure I didn't need the extra calories, anyway, right? That's what also prompted me to pass on the cappuccino and get plain old motor oil rot gut swill coffee. So all in all not a great start to the morning. Especially if I get food poisoning (intentional or otherwise) from the pastry. I know, I'm totally fixated and fascinated by poison - not, mind you, that I have the urge to poison someone, it's more of an academic interest. And if anything, I'd be interested in solving poisonings. And I love reading about the history, etc. I joking said (after a commercial on TV) that I should go get a degree in... what is it the semi-police people get a degree in? Criminal Justice? You know, I often thought I'd love to be a forensic pathologist. It's like being a doctor, only you don't have the fear of killing your patients. Or a crime scene photographer. That would be neat. Little-know fact about me: I was going to stay in college and get a degree in Chemistry, but I got a job offer from KCMO and the lure of not being dirt-poor anymore drew me away. Plus, you know, the chance to use the degree I already had. And now, eleven years later, it seems I have too much invested in being what I am to change. And, you know, the fact that jobs in those other fields are rarer, and probably don't pay as much. And really, I prefer that my life isn't wrapped up in my job. I'm fine with it being a means to buy the things I really like.

Anyway, onto the parking bit. There's a guy at work who gets his knickers in a twist if you park in his parking space. I did it one day (because it was closer to the place I was releasing the mouse) and he taped a bumper-sticker to my car. Then he went off when a girl from court parked there so she could walk past the fine drop-box and collect the money. And evidently, yesterday, as he was leaving for work he parked his work truck in the spot so no one could park there this morning. So he went though all the trouble of swapping cars - twice! - just so he got 'his' space. I simply can't imagine caring about a parking space that much. Sure, I like to park in the same general area of the parking lot, but that's just so I can quickly find my car and don't wander around the parking lot looking like an idiot that's lost my car. Which, I would be. But I have half a mind, if I ever beat him in, to park in his space again. I will not, like he said he'd do, get here 15-20 minutes early just to get my parking space. That seems far to OCD and more than a little sad...

Fiction! On a postcard! From Pen!

I got a postcard from Australia the other day. It didn't tell me that the weather was nice, or that the person was having a good time. No, it said this:

( CLICK ME! CLICK ME! YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO READ IT! )

All on a postcard (obviously, it was all smooshed together). Written Scrawled in gold ink. It was AWESOME. If a little odd, coming from Pen.

So in that spirit, anyone want a postcard fiction from me? I can't promise anything near as neat, though I can promise blue or black ink. :)