Wednesday, October 20, 2004

Eye of the Tiger.

Try as you might, somedays, you just can't win. I was having one of those days at work. I don;t remember the circumstances, but something had soured my mood, soured it like a lemon in vinegar.

I had to do something. Then I remembered Rocky, working in the meat plant, punching the hanging sides of beef. Can't that guy just go the gym? He never punches a punching bag, he never lifts weights, instead he carries trees through the snow and punches beef!? Anyway, I think I'm a little like Rocky, just more articulate. So I thought I'd try it out.

Since beef is to slaughterhouse as cheese is to pizza eatery, I would punch the cheese.

I walked into the freezer, which was appropriate because I remember Rocky was also in a freezer, and looked at box after box of cheese, just asking for it. I punched them, all of them, over and over and the cheese was flying. It was raining cheese like sawdust flying out of a chainsaw.

I walked out of the freezer and brushed the cheese off my shoulder like dandruff. My coworkers looked at me, wondering why I was covered in cheese no doubt. I went back to work, stress successfully reduced.

Later, Derrick asked why cheese was all over the floor. I told him. He went to punch the cheese too.

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