I've been called worse...

Okay, so I'm at work, and I hear there is a tin of cookies in my mailbox.

Sweet sauce!

I usually dislike the trek through the plant to the front offices where my mailbox resides, the front offices being upstairs offices, which means I have to tango-two-step up the stairs where only a thin pane of plastic keeps me from falling to my doom on the plant floor, but doesn't keep everyone from seeing the attempt of course (I have issues with stairs, no?)

But this time? It was all about the cookies!

I put my cookie blinders on and made a very un-bee like beeline to the front of the building (there's a lot of stuff to walk around).

And lo and behold, a tin of cookies! Plus a free calendar from some credit union bank. Merry Belated Christmas to me. Guess I should check my mailbox more often.

Anywhoo, I grab my mail (mainly consisting of Here-Fix-My-Problems) and the Tin-O-Cookies (tm) and start heading back. Only I work in a place where you're not allowed to have food in non-office areas. And this Tin-O-Cookies (tm) was all gussied up in crinkly plastic with a silver curly bow on top. Not easily hidden.

This one time, I was hungry, and bought a tin of tuna and crackers from the vending machine (yes, vending tuna - I'm adventurous!) and had to hide the tin of tuna down my pants, (had it wedged between the tummy rolls and the undies' elasto-band - ingenous!) because putting the tin in my pockets looked like I was caring around a can of tobacco, another no-no here. Actually, it didn't work down the pants, looked like I had a growth on my coochie. I ended up wedging the can of tuna between the boobs and walked through the plant hoping no one noticed the vague impression of a third boob.

This time, the Tin-O-Cookies (tm), which is the same size tin of holiday butter cookies you see in any store, was waaaaaaay too big to fit down my pants or wedge between the boobs. Well, it could fit down the pants, I'd just look like a weird-ass hunchbackfront and that would draw too much attention. And it was too poofy to smuggle with the boobs.

So I had to be covert.

So I grabbed two reams of printer paper and wedged the Tin-O-Cookies (tm) between it and my boob and placed the mail on top, as the clear crinkly plastic was poking out in an annoying Look At Me I'm So Pretty And Crinkly fashion.

Covert like a ninja!

I made it back with no one stopping me. Probably could have worn my clothes inside out and had cookies sticking out my nose and no one would have stopped me, but its always good to play it safe.

Ninja style!

So anyways, I get back to my desk with my loot and Mr. Desk Neighbor wants to see what's inside. Cookies, duh, but he wanted to actually see the cookies, because he got a tin too and wants to know if its worth the effort to retrieve them.

So I start to unwrap the Tin-O-Cookies (tm)... Now, I'm not anal about unwrapping paper wrapped gifts. I don't need to make sure the paper doesn't get ripped and is reusuable. I also don't like to make too much of a mess of ripping it to shreds because I'm usually the one picking up the mess afterwards. But this time, with the crinkly plastic and the curly silver ribbon, I wanted to take my time. I already knew what was inside, so I was going to enjoy the process.

Work Procrastination at its finest.

And in the process, it irritated antsy Mr. Desk Neighbor to no end.

MDN: Do you want a pair of scissors?
ME: No.

He stands behind me while I continue to tug on the ribbon tied around the crinkled plastic. It's slow going, tugging it a centimeter at a time. Tough little bastard.

MDN: Do you want a knife?
ME: Nope.

I attack it from a different angle, pulling the crinkly paper out of the silver ribbon's death grip.

MDN: My god, you're dial-up!

I about busted up laughing over that one. One more pull though and I freed the cookies, liberating them in time to get in my bellllllaaaaay.

So now I've got coffee, butter cookies, while the computer plays a CD of Charlie Brown Christmas music my cousin in-law made for me.

~ Heaven ~