Crucible Connections - Meatcake

In the past, and I stress in the past (because people I work with now read this blog), my friends and I have treated Outlook more like an instant messaging application. Sometimes, our conversations are what make us productive and keep us sane. Typically, the more insane the conversation, the more sanity maintained in the office. At least for me, I can't speak for my friends.

Anyway, I've decided to post a series of real, actual work e-mail exchanges between others and me during my time at a certain magazine which will remain un-named because the editor of said magazine is the kind of prick who would baselessly sue me for rights violations, and I don't have the wherewithal for litigation. So, let's see, I'll call this series "Crucible Connections" for professional reasons.

I will also conspicuously rename certain people, as I have not discussed posting these conversations publicly with them. On to the conversations!

Number one: Meatcake

-----Original Message-----
From: Bobby Fair Housing
Sent: Tuesday, April 04, 2006 11:27 AM
To: Dan Morris
Subject: GRRR

I didn't get the job and now I am sad:(
-Bob

Bobby Fair Housing
Case Manager

-----Original Message-----
From: Dan Morris
Sent: Tuesday, April 04, 2006 11:30 AM
To: Bobby Fair Housing
Subject: RE: GRRR

Oh man. Sorry to hear, man. If you'd like, I could make you a cake.

-----Original Message-----
From: Bobby Fair Housing
Sent: Tuesday, April 04, 2006 11:42 AM
To: Dan Morris
Subject: RE: GRRR

make sure it is a loser cake with a sad face on it.

Bobby Fair Housing
Case Manager

-----Original Message-----
From: Dan Morris
Sent: Tuesday, April 04, 2006 11:57 AM
To: Bobby Fair Housing
Subject: RE: GRRR

How about a meatloaf that looks like a cake with a sad face on it, so you're cheery because you think you're getting sad-face cake, but then you take a bite and find out that it's actually cold meatloaf instead of cake, and then you start crying because you realize that life is nothing but a whole bunch of unexpected and unpleasant surprises, so much so that you end up eating crappy meatloaf when you're expecting cake. And the frosting on the meatloaf isn't even vanilla, it's just congealed grease. And then, while you're still crying, you open up your mail, and after sifting through the bills that will most likely NEVER get paid in full (which really don't even bother you anymore because you're already far too broken as a human being to care), you find a single postcard, with no return address on it, and it just says, "God hates you. And so do His good friends Buddha, Siva, Ganesha, and even His not so good friend Zoroaster." And there are signatures underneath from all of the above, except Zoroaster, that jerk. He just puts a Mr. Yuk face with an X after it. And now, my friend, now you're bawling like a freshly circumcised infant boy. So you take another bite of the meatloaf cake, which you've forgotten is meatloaf, and you get that gooey congealed grease in between your teeth, and you try to drink some soda to wash it down, but the liquid just beads off of your tongue because of all the grease...

And that's when things really start to get ugly, because that cold sore you've been tending to on the bottom right side of your lip cracks and bursts and oozes all over the place, and Ed McMahon rings the doorbell to tell you you've just won a million dollars, but he takes one look at your pathetic visage and makes a brief excuse about coming to the wrong door and how he was actually looking for "32...NORTH Kennedy...NORTH, not SOUTH," but he does hand you a fin and tells you to go buy some Herpecin for that "souvenir" on your lip. Live on Camera, mind you.

So, anyway, point is, have dinner ready for me when I get home. I want roast beef. And get my laundry done while you're at it.

-Dan