TEA AND COOKIES

If you do anything regularly, you may overlook the moment it becomes bizarre. You just keep on doing it, because in our village we've always shaved cats, and it prevents them developing dreadlocks, okay?
Massive clumps of ratty matted fur.

And a marijuana habit. It's part of our cherished tradition .....
Feline rastas; they're real.


It's like answering the phone politely. If you are of a certain age, you cannot help doing so; "hello, this is Badger, with whom am I speaking?"

Nowadays it's more likely that it's a scam artist pretending to be from the utility company, or someone representing the Fraternal Order of Police.
Who needs your personal banking details.
Or else things will happen.
Oh, and by the way, stop calling us about our airducts. There is nothing you can do about trachea, bronchi, lungs, or mucous membranes.
We are methane breathers here.
Artificial tubing.
Valves.


Having been a pipe club member for over eight years, I barely noticed how odd some of the discussions have been. Salmon. Blood pudding. Hairy men in skirts. The love shack one of them is building up in Mendocino, where he will retire with a fab collection of Barbie Dolls and his bullwhip or something (I tend to totally zone out whenever he mentions his comfy rural hide-away, because I am a city boy, and will probably never visit that part of California where rattlesnakes and pot-farmers are common). Hobbits, naked men, Germans, old lady perfume, green herring, the Luftwaffe.
Eels, engineering, writing equipement.
Gluten, noodles, fried food.

Hello Kitty.

Some of these subject I probably introduced myself.

Still, to the unbiased observer, it may have resembled nothing so much as a rowdy collection of peculiar people, attention deficit disorder, and a crying need for straight jackets and restraint devices.

The unbiased observer.

Especially the Scottish episodes.

It happened gradually.


One possible cause is that tea is not drunk at these meetings, but there are always open bottles and cookies. Middle-aged men hepped on cookies are uncontrollable. And agendas will be strayed from or sabotaged.
Sorry, John, we can't help ourselves.
It's chocolate chip.

I'm the only tea drinker present.

Years ago the head of the Graphics Department at the office once proposed that he should do his segment of the monthly company meetings with a sprightly sequence of interpretive dance. An ode to Spring. Instead of a dreary boastful lecture, like Sales and Marketing, about stupendous achievements and saving the universe.
Naturally Engineering, Creative, and Credit & Collections (me), thought that this was a splendid idea.

I shall propose to John, our esteemed club president, that next meeting we return to normalcy by having an interpretive dance session. Several of the members are hypothetically limber enough to participate.

I'll also bring a teapot from home, because proper hydration is important.

I am a concerned individual, and I care. Deeply.

Hello Kitty would approve.

All "intensive" purposes.


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