Ok… I mentioned this briefly in a previous post, but I always wanted to tell the story in more detail:

One of the things I love about working where I work is that they provide us with free cans of soda. I’m a Coke-drinker… pretty much exclusively. One mid-afternoon in January, I was enjoying a nice cold can of Coke, snuggled into my comfy Papasan chair in my office, working on my laptop. I put the Coke on my rug, next to me and would take a swig every so often.

You know how it is: when you first crack the can open and that glorious mist pops up… you take that first sip and it’s like you’ve stolen a drink from the nectar of the gods. From that point on, if you don’t finish it all in one sitting, the fizz starts to go flat and each sip over time becomes less and less satisfying. Finally, by the time you’re to the bottom of the can, you’re pretty much just chugging it to be finished with the experience and get it over with.
Such is the case with any soda. We’ve all just come to accept it and live with it.

This particular afternoon was different. It started out like any ordinary delightful Coke experience does, but over the course of the afternoon, the TASTE of the Coke seemed to change, not just the lack of fizz. By the end of the work-day, I figured, “let’s just chug the rest of this thing and go home.” By the weight of it, it felt like there was maybe a good quarter of the can left.

When I went for the last chug, the experience was unlike any other: It sort of felt like I was dumping a handful of delicious cupcake sprinkles into my mouth, but rather than accept their fate, THESE cupcake sprinkles decided to make a break for it and crawl desperately out of my mouth.

Ok… firstly, you’re probably wondering why there were sprinkles in my Coke. Secondly, you’re thinking, “how are they crawling out of your mouth? That sounds disgusting.” Both thoughts were running through my brain as the “sprinkles” proceeded to run out of my mouth and down my shirt.

As it turned out, they were ants… hundreds of them. Apparently, in a matter of two hours and in the dead of winter, an entire colony of ants had managed to find my can of Coke on the floor, tell all their friends in the county and crawl into my can, drowning themselves and unable to crawl back out. I never saw them crawl in, but as surely as you just threw up a little in your mouth, I saw them trying to get out.

I jumped up and down a few times, spit as many of them as I could into the trash and immediately began trying to condition myself psychologically that I wasn’t going to disown Coke as a result.

…I told you that story to tell you this one:

This evening I spent some time on the front patio, talking with my wife in-between her numerous daily phone calls, enjoying the nice weather and, naturally, a delicious Coke.

We came inside to watch some TV and I remembered that my Coke was still outside, sitting in its cup-holder on my chair. Two episodes of Arrested Development and one episode of Battlestar Galactica later, as I was taking my final swig, something smooth, about the size of a cigarette butt slipped into my mouth.

I spit the thing out and it started to vibrate in desperation. Once again, I had poured an insect into my mouth. This time, it was a poor, unsuspecting moth, drawn to the sweet smells emanating from the nectar of the gods.

That being said, if you mess around with their drink, don’t turn your back on it or you’re sure to find yourself prey to one of their practical jokes.

I’m sure Zeus and Hades are yuckin’ it up.

I woke up this morning very sleepy for my 7:00am business networking meeting. For those of you who know me well, mornings are not my “thang.”

I flopped myself out of bed about 10 minutes after the alarm went off, tripped over Lenny The Cat on my way to the bathroom and proceeded to perform my morning ritual.

Normally, that means turning on the shower and shaving while the water heats up.

This morning’s activities were no different:

1.) Walk in bathroom with today’s clothes in hand

2.) Drop clothes on floor, scaring Lenny out of the bathroom

3.) Turn on shower to mid-heat

4.) Pull cordless razor out of cupboard

5.) Take cap off razor, being careful not to drop cap or razor into toilet.

6.) Begin shaving with razor

The difference in today’s ritual is the addition of steps 7 and 8:

7.) Notice that chin feels moist

8.) Look down to realize that I am shaving with my deoderant… not my razor

What’s it all mean? It means that the sweatier my chin gets, the better I’m going to smell today.

…Sure. Laugh it up. You laugh now, but when I walk past you with those fine smells comin’ off my sweaty chin, you’ll thank me.

Over the years, I’ve had several friends tell me that my TV was on. Usually, they tell me this when there’s no audio or video signal going to the TV, so it’s on, but there’s nothing playing.

This, in and of itself, is no big deal… it’s the comment that comes afterwards that always makes me smirk just a little:

“I dunno why, but I seem to be able to tell when a TV is on in the room. I can hear it.”

…to which I usually have to stifle a comment like, “so where’s your mask and cape?”

Ok. So you think you have super-human hearing because you can hear the high-pitch whine of a TV? Even if that was a super-power, what kind of a lame super-power would that be?

“On a mission to stop electricity-wasting everywhere, Captain Cochlea, lacking the ability to fly, runs door to door, listening for TV’s that may be carelessly left on, but not receiving a signal.”

I got news for ya: just about any male under age 50 can hear that… including myself. I just choose not to brag about it.

Don’t get me wrong… I do have super-human abilities… I just don’t consider the ability to determine when my TV has been left on to be among them.

I have three super-powers: 1.) the ability to embarrass myself. I can do this amazing feat faster and more effectively than anyone I know. 2.) the ability to be completely absent-minded and seemingly forget everything…

Fortunately, my abilities manage to complement one-another frequently.

Let me give you an example: I have a glasses-holder in my car because I have two pairs of glasses. One of them is a pair of RX sunglasses. Normally, I get in the car, put on the sunglasses and swap my regular glasses into the glasses-holder. I drive around for a while, get to my destination and my super-powers kick in.

I park, walk into the building, wonder why the hell everything is so dark and about a half-hour later, I can be found wandering back to my car to get my regular glasses.

The ratio I manage to screw this up is about 1:1. It happens frequently enough that my 8-year old nephew went out with me to get ice cream one time and brought his sunglasses along specifically so he could forget them in the car like me.

What can I say? I’m a super-hero.