One of the best parts of my day as an underling for an international soup concern has got to be dealing with the foreign language stuff. Today I had to swap out a picture of a can of soup for…a new can of soup. All the writing is Japanese, and it’s a brimming bowl of yellow liquid. I started tittering at the possibilities. Let’s play “What’s! In! The Can!” shall we? Could it be…Cream of Dog? Tincture of Eel? Extract of Cock? Or, as my office pal suggested, that old standby, Rat Oil. Mmmm!

You’d think there would be exotic products like that, but actually it’s just boring shit like clam chowder and chicken noodle. Ho hum. So much for diversity. I guess I could link to the humorous foreign soup pages, but I’d probably get “canned.” Ahahahahaha. Then how would I pay for my drugs?

Yes, Lambchop, work is a funny thing. You used to make fun of me for wearing sneakers with my suit, but once you tried it you admitted there was no going back. The world of banking was not for me….I could write a novella out of my failed careers. Soda Jerk, Grease Monkey, Exotic Dancer, Roustabout. I really lost the love for the hot $9/hr world of bank tellering when I realized you are behind glass not so much because of the threat of robbery, but because people spit at you!

Sample Workaday Dialogue:

Me: How may I help you today?

Disgruntled Vagrant: I wanna take out all my money

Me: Account number please, and I’ll need 2 forms of ID.

DV: ARGHRRRPHHMMMPHPHHH! Cunt! Whore!

I can’t tell you what was in the briefcase. But just the other day I saw a guy handcuffed to a Louis Vuitton monogrammed case. In the checkout line at Stop n’ Shop. I wouldn’t fool about something that weird.

xxoo