Nothing that color ever flew out of me before

I blew my nose and little bits of carrot flew out. I had been sitting in my cubicle at work eating carrot sticks when I coughed involuntarily. Since I was eating, I kept my mouth closed as I coughed. After a minute I had to blow my nose, and little bits of orange carrot magically appeared in the Kleenex. I went around the floor to show it to only two people, because to show a third person would have been gauche. Now there's no doubt how special I am.

I went back to my desk and had to blow my nose somemore. More carrot bits flew out. Are they all out? I don't know. I envisioned a life smelling carrots over everything. "Honey, that perfume is heady stuff, if you ignore the scent of carrot mixed in it."

But I don't smell any carrots at the moment, so don't be alarmed if this happens to you; you can prevail and maybe make a TV movie or write a song about it.

Shame of the city

Tonight on CLTV (Chicagoland TV), the nightly news was anchored by a nice looking young blonde woman named Amy Rutledge. She introduced a story about a new local report that says Chicago is one of the most segregated cities in the United States. Amy said Pamela Jones had the full story, and the TV screen split into two squares with Amy in one square and Pamela in the other. Pamela, a nice looking young black woman, gave her report from a separate room.

Belated karma

When I was young and naïve, I worked for a Chicago company that asked me to work lots of overtime hours for free, while they fired hundreds of people in other divisions. (There was also plenty of inferior management.) After a few years of that, I (and my friends there) quit, one by one, to work elsewhere.

The day I left the Bad Bad company is still one of my happiest memories, and my departure helped me understand why some women obsess over planning their wedding day, even though it's a one-day event. It's because the memory can make you happy in remembering for the rest of your life.

After I quit, the Bad Bad company continued to fire people, maybe in hopes of raising its stock price (it didn't work).

Now I get notice, via e-mail, that the Bad Bad company has apparently burned its way through the entire Chicagoland hiring pool. They've run out of people to hire and fire, so they're trying to locate ex-employees by building a club, writing: "As we continue to transform our business into a truly great organization, we would very much like to be able to learn from your experiences and industry knowledge, and spend some time socializing and catching up while we’re at it."

That is so cute! They could start by reimbursing me for the 2,100 hours in unpaid weekend work accumulated over my last few years there. That would be "truly great" indeed.

I don't recognize the current CEO's name on the e-mail; the poor guy must not realize what he's inherited.

Darndest things

My mom is a little less discreet than my dad, and occasionally she pipes up with some phrasing or fact I didn't see coming.

Mom in the car, pointing to the building where she and Dad lived as newlyweds: "There's the apartment where Bill was conceived!"

At the dinner table one night: "Well, the first time your dad got a vasectomy, it didn't take." (It was news to me that Dad had one vasectomy, let alone two.)

Oh crap, it just occurred to me that since your parents know your formative years better than anyone, Mom could be spouting off the verbal equivalent of naked baby photos about me. Is it possible to Google the air for spoken words yet?