The One Ring

Dear Notebook,

One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them,
One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.

These are the translated words of an Elvish script in The Lord of the Rings. Now before I had actually read The Lord Of the Rings I thought it was a chick book; you know, magical rings that take over men’s minds and turn them into mindless hunchback creatures, then I thought "there's someplace I'm supposed to be today" but where? I continued working on another irksome task as a nightmarish ominousness peered its way into my soul. "HOLY CRAP" I blurted loudly as the flatulent janitor walked by giving me her usual "I hate you, you son of a bitch". Why did she hate me? It was an honest mistake calling Immigration Services because I suspected she was Guyanese; so what if they raided her house, killed her dog and beat one of her sons into a coma? The important thing is that we stop the invasion. She needs to be a bit more patriotic if you ask me, but I digress.

The phone rang and the realisation of a horror so unimaginable, so unrelentingly torturous came into view, the name “snoogsy-woogsy” came up on my caller ID, I had forgotten today was our anniversary and we (and by “we” I mean “she”) had made arrangements to go down to the warden’s office to place BANS or Bands. Bullets of cold sweat ran down my face and drenched my company issue polo shirt as my thumb edged closer to the ‘talk’ button. “I must think of a lie” I thought “but what?” I clicked the talk button; I could feel hell’s fury about to unleash itself via GSM. “Hello” I said in a timid voice,
“Hi babe, are you close by?” she asked.
I was stumped, I quickly calculated the time it would take to get down there and answered “close by” deceivingly.
“I have a bit of bad news”
I paused
“My uncle died from cancer, it looks like we’ll have to postpone the wedding for a year”
I finally understood what James Brown meant by “Get Down” I began to mock hump the chair in joy all while maintaining absolute silence. This went on for a few minutes until I composed myself and said.
“OMG I can’t believe it, that’s terrible”
With one hand, I held the phone and with the other hand, a mass email was being composed with the subject “Wedding off, uncle dead, beers later” anyway notebook, I committed to making one entry per day and this is mine for today. ‘til next time.

P.S. RIK called today and said that they got manila folders back in stock, strange thing is that the San Fernando and Penal branches have already sold out.



Rainman

Notebook Entry

Notebook Entry: 0001, Monday 14th June, 2010

Dear Notebook,
Conference room seems a little colder this morning as I unpack my inadequately equipped standard company issue laptop, "'tis Monday morning again" I pondered, as the lingering pungency of the janitor's fart fills the air. I breathe a deep sigh of depression as I check my lotto tickets; I always check them after a day or two hoping that the extra time spent praying in the toilet while reading old issues of Popular Photography would somehow miraculously transform my numbers into the winning ones. Manager walks into the room "you sure look like you can use some time off". A twinkle enters my eye as I stare up at this towering mass of idiocy, "of course you know we can't give you any, you're just too valuable to the project". Oh well, at least there's the ole talk forum. Ah yes, the ole talk forum of the popular local automotive website, where men can be men and the other 90% can be….well they just be. Although the true expression of the term is yet to be understood by that 90% I still find comfort in the fact that I can log on and read articles from local experts on their disgust with the Ferrari design team or the more recent raccoon infestation; the racoon hunters seem to have it under control though. On a side note, has anyone tried to purchase manila folders recently? There seem to be a shortage, RIK said to check them at the end of the month. Anyway, got to go now notebook, “the man” is calling.

P.S: Devrat keeps asking me to roll my rrrrrrrrrs, and I’m pretty sure that the sounds on the phone are of a sexual nature.

Rainman