The Sixth Sense last night, and it was as excellent as I had remembered. I was deathly afraid that Fred would figure out the ending halfway through the movie, but – like me – he didn’t. There’s this interesting drain hole in the floor of the bathroom nearest my office. Sometimes it doesn’t drain the way it should, and it gets stinky in there, and we have to call the maintenance man to come flush it out. Today, the smell of fresh feces wafted through the entire office, leading Fred to ask one of the employees what he was eating for lunch (the employee, might I add, who always eats the crappy frozen dinners at lunch). Now imagine Fred and Mr. Frozen Dinner wandering around the office following their noses. Guess what they found? No, not the drain lookin’ stinky. No, this time they found actual feces rising out of the drain. Which they (being men) decided to cover by spraying most of a large can of Lysol all over the place. Our maintenance man came and looked, proclaimed the toilet backed up, and called the plumber. Who, three hours later, has yet to show up. Who wants to bet it’s me who’ll be waiting for him to show up? I think I’ll go do some surfing (and not think about the fact that I haven’t peed since 9 am and have had three Cokes and a cup of water) while waiting for the evil plumber show his ass up. I can only hope he’ll flash me some butt cleavage. —–]]>