Thursday, July 21, 2005

That is what I'd truly like to beeeeeee....

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Today is a dark, rain day and the air is alive with the smell of hotdogs. You see, I work next to a meat rendering plant. No more than a chain link fence separates me from one of the few things I have ever bothered to care about. You know what? Youthful idealism has long since been replaced by apathy...the show must go on! Hot dogs must be made! The masses must be fed!

I first became aware of what stood next to my workplace two winters ago. A coworker and I were walking out to our cars together when I stopped dead in my tracks.

"What is it?" my coworker asked, obviously frightened by my abrupt halt in movement.

"It smells like a giant cookout around this place!" I exclaimed. "How could someone be throwing a barbecue? It's the middle of winter!"

My coworker looked at me with an astonished look on her face. I knew that look. It's the kind of look you only get when you've just said something ridiculously stupid. Trying hard not to make me feel like a total retard, my coworker said casually, "Well, it's probably the Oscar Mayer plant. It's right over there, you know."

Actually, I didn't know. But now I do. And there you have it.

So why does any of this matter? I doesn't, quite frankly. Did you catch the pun? Of course you didn't. When I was walking into work this morning, it really did smell like hotdogs. That's when I thought to myself "the air is alive with the smell of hotdogs." I wanted to repeat my clever Sound of Music-style quote to someone, but my better judgment told me it wasn't that funny. But I had to tell someone! Then I remembered: blogging. That open-air, worthless invention that allows you to say things that you think are funny but no one else does and pretend that someone is listening! The perfect medium in which to tell my joke. The perfect place to concoct a pseudo-story in which to place the one, miniscule thing I wanted to say.

Unfortunately for me, my blog has been dead for some time. Fortunately for me, I can restart it whenever the hell I feel like. Looks like I just did. I realize now that I need this lame-ass outlet or I might explode, finally brimming over with all the moronic things that I want to say but never do. In reality I have nothing to say, no good stories to tell, but yet I need to have that place to air it all out so that the real, living people in my life don't have to pretend to care when they're standing in front of me.

Jubilation! A whoop of approval!

Don't expect much from this, because I don't expect much from it either. I'm warning you right now...but feel free to check in from time to time, and if you're lucky I might actually type something worth reading.

End communication.