Well that went over like a fart in church, huh? The whole delurk thing? Oh well. I heard from Jenny, whom I’d love to hear from again, as she’s a homegirl. But it’s fine, really. I love it that you guys are here, regardless (irregardless!) of whether you comment or not. The sitemeter knows. It knows that I had guys from Singapore, Leeds (UK), Australia. And I’m curious how they find me — what does one “google” to find this particular page? I know there are some ways to find out that very information, but it’s not that important and, quite frankly, I’m not quite enough of a techie to figure it out. It doesn’t matter, really, because this is the one thing I don’t have to figure out. It’s the one thing I don’t have to fit into my schedule. If things get crazy, my writing can wait, and I don’t have to make apologies. If I write about absolutely nothing? That’s okay too.

Got that? It’s o-KAY.

And I know I’ve brought this up before, but I’ll say it again. This whole internet writing experience has given me so much more than I have given it. I’ve made some great friends — friends whose e-mails I look forward to receiving, whose instant messages make my day. And damn. I have found some incredible writers. I’ve discovered a whole new batch of people in the past couple of weeks — people I don’t even have room to link to right now — that really inspire me to do better.

So thanks for reading, for being here. Even if you don’t comment, I know you’re here and that means a lot to me.

On to other business. We have a guy at work that just kills me. The guy would do anything in the world for you, but he’s loud, obnoxious, and incredibly rude. He looks like Shrek minus the little trumpet ears. He eats with his mouth open, talks with it full, and will pretty much mow you down if you are in the way. He’s in his 60’s, and probably could retire, but he thrives on his job — the real one and the one that’s in his head. See, in his mind, he works closely with Interpol, the CIA, and was almost called to Washington on 9/11. In his mind, he has a microchip in his car that allows him to change the traffic lights and drive about 150 mph. In his mind, he keeps $10K in his wallet. Rumor has it that he holed himself up in his house once, holding his wife hostage, and had to be talked out of the place by his fellow officers. So asking him to leave, to retire, to do anything that is not his idea is not a good idea.

Fortunately, he just loves me to death. And that’s a good thing. He came in a few minutes ago to ask (well, ‘ask’ is questionable) me about something…and he just shoved the guy I was talking to out of the doorway, barreled in, and commenced to questioning. My visitor knew better — he just got out of the way.

I’m not going to get into a lot of the really, I mean really disgusting details about him, but let’s just say this. Don’t stand in front of him when he’s eating nuts. Don’t touch anything he has touched. Trust me. Just don’t. (He does things with a finger-nose combo that you wouldn’t allow a four-year-old to do.)

But all of this and he’s still good as gold. He really is. He does more around here than his counterparts who are half his age. He works hard. You just have to take the good with the bad. And I guess every office has someone like that. I know Brenda has Crazy Woman. Adam has Miss N.J. We all have ’em.

Tell me about your crazy coworkers. It’ll make me feel better about mine.