well well well, you just can't tell...

The office vending machine has become an integral part of my daily caloric intake. My dietary needs are somewhere in the ballpark of 8,000 calories mostly from simple sugars and Trans fats. It’s all a part of my “wellness” plan, which I’ll explain some other time (hopefully before the plan reaches its final stages, I don’t think I’ll be able to type much during those stages). Anyway, I look forward to scraping underneath the floor mats of my car hoping to find monetary denominations of the silver kind so I can wriggle a little piece of heaven from the clutches of the mechanical snack prison.

We used to be serviced by a lovely retired couple who supplemented their income with my change. All was good; they would come in weekly and replace the outdated chips, and harvest their gains. I was a little leery when they sold their route to a Gulf War vet who complained about being overextended having to work all day and then service vending machines for extra cash at night. Maybe it’s me but if it’s that much trouble to place hostess snack cakes into a locked cabinet that gives you money every week, maybe you aren’t cut out for the vending machine industry. I cut the guy a break though; he was probably exposed to enough depleted uranium to make him sterile so I won’t have to worry about Junior Snack Guy.

I should have known that when I was being called to rattle the machine daily (I have a tender touch) that things were going to go down hill. First he couldn’t figure out that snacks that were too big for their slots will get stuck, and people will get pissed. Next it was the Mexican knock off snacks. I think he was cruising the flea markets looking to lower costs and raise profits. Twinkie the Kid was replaced by some sort of toucan with a harelip. Thankfully he still had quite a few name brand chips and sundries locked away in there. Now he hasn’t shown up in a while, the machine isn’t taking any money, and I’m pretty sure there is a raccoon living in D-7. I’m going to be placing a large ball python in the machine to take the raccoon out, but I’m not really sure how I’ll get the snake out. Actually I hope Snack Guy makes the mistake of opening the door before checking if there is a large constrictor waiting for him behind the glass.

I have tickets to see Guns and Roses tonight at the Hammerstein ballroom. If this was 1989, I would be the envy of millions of Americans, but since I’m going to see a band that hasn’t put out an album in 10+ years and really only has one remaining member I’ll be lucky if Axl actually takes the stage. Early reviews are good though so I should be getting my rock on. I’ll be sure to report on the proceedings, I have a feeling that the audience will give plenty of fuel for my blogging fire.

I’ve learned that someone in my office has tickets to the Mets-Yankees game on Friday, so I’m going to go and lodge myself above the drop ceiling in their office for the surprise flying elbow. I should probably check and see if the tickets I’m going to steal are actually in the office, but I like to live dangerously.