August 11th, 2004

Wedding day

It's not supposed to be cold in August.

It's 52 degrees right now.

It's 52 degrees, and it's early mid-August.

It's 52 degrees in early mid-August, and today is our annual summer Employee Appreciation Picnic at work. At least, they tell me it's annual. I don't recall there having been one two years ago, but I may have been avoiding it on principle. Anyway, I'm getting away from my point. 52 degrees. Early mid-August. Summer Employee Appreciation Picnic.

Picnii (which is not the plural of picnic, but would be if I were running things (and aren't you glad that I'm not?)) are generally held outdoors, and while 52 degrees might be picnic weather in March, it's really not when you've become accustomed to temperatures in the mid-80s.

I'm sure there've been cooler Augusts, just not this far south.

That's a lame joke, but I've gotten a lot of mileage out of it this afternoon. They hired the OD TAPO IMI steel drum band to play outside next to the building, and Jamaican food catered by Jamerica. When I was in line getting lunch, the guy ahead of me asked for "jackass chicken. No, wait. Dumbass chicken. Bonehead chicken. What's it called? Dickhead chicken?" The woman serving the food handed his plate back and retorted "Jerk chicken. They named it after you." These jokes are almost as lame as my August joke, but speaking as someone who puts up with this guy daily, any triumph over his assualt on comedy -- however small -- is still a triumph.

I had a plate of heavily seasoned pork served over beans and rice. There were no other vegetables (to the chagrin of just about everybody), but dessert was a choice of authentic Jamaican German chocolate cake or authentic Jamaican key lime pie. I tasted both. The pie was fantastic. A few of my coworkers and I sat around making fun of the AEG and her pregnancy ("She weighs what, like, seventy pounds?" "Maybe now that she's eaten lunch she does. Of course, all the weight is on top.") Then I went inside and the AEG and I sat around making fun of her pregnancy ("Can you believe how big my boobs are getting?" "I'm trying not to look." "I appreciate that." (I'll let you guess who was saying what)).

Nobody's getting any work done, and nobody (except those poor souls who have to sit in a phone queue all day) is expected to. I still feel like I wasted altogether too much time talking discussing the AEG's breasts.
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