Thursday, February 03, 2005

An Open Letter to Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven

Dear Hot Toddy’s Toaster Oven,

Two days left. That’s all I have. Two more days of working over the cube wall from my best friend.

You’ve gone and accepted a job that is a promotion and far more visible than the job you have now. Which is a good thing, I guess *sigh*. I’m wishing now that when I dropped your name to the supervisor who hired you, that I had said some things to her that would have created doubt…

“He’s a great guy and no matter what you think, he’s not looking for a boyfriend. He’s a hard worker if you can pull his ass away from his blog. No, he’s not a heavy internet user, especially to his buddies on the East Coast. Don’t worry if you can’t locate him, he’s probably in the smoking area, grabbing food, flirting with boys online, working out in the gym or has cut out early to go drinking C.C. Slaughters. No, he’s not a heavy drinker – he drinks just enough to cover the mortgage at C.C.’s.”

I shouldn’t have told her about your interest in that particular job because she was thrilled when she found that out and I knew I had said too much!

What I should have done is lied and told her was how you really didn’t give a shit about her crappy ol’ job. I should have lied and told her that you have an aversion to working for straight chicks. I should have lied and told her you were a flag-waving, flamboyant homosexual and have difficulty not flaunting your lifestyle. I should have lied and told her there was nothing but darkness and negativity that surrounds you and that you have too many boundaries. That’s what I should have said…

You and Ms Karma and I have a routine, Hot Toddy’s Toaster Oven. Coffee and a smoke at the coffee shop across the street. Order breakfast downstairs in our building and have another smoke. Eat breakfast and then…have another smoke! This is when we get caught up on the happenings from the night before. This is when we share our thoughts after having the evening to contemplate the latest drama from the day before.

What I am I supposed to do when you’re gone? I mean, I know the number of smoke breaks will diminish which will be better for my health. I know I will get more work done.

But who’s going to tell me boy stories?

I will still have the contents of you, Toaster Oven, to feed my addiction everyday. But when you contain something witty, something that causes me break out in uncontrollable laughter (which happens regularly), you won’t be here to get your usual pleasure from “getting to me.”

We won’t be able to blurt out the East Coast interpretation of the English language that our ex-navy, golf-playing, female former-boss uses, while giggling under our breath and wondering if she realized that we had just mocked her.

I know we can still take occasional breaks together and meet for lunch, but that’s hardly the same as knowing you’re right here.

As Friday grows near, I find I have a heavy heart at the thought of you working in another building. Do you not think I’ve been through enough? Now I have to deal with abandonment issues from my Dad brother best friend? What kind of heartless bastard are you?

Do you realize how much more time I’m going to have to spend in The Vortex on the weekends to compensate for time lost during the week?

Wait. More time in The Vortex… Okay. Never mind on that last comment.

How will you get your daily fill of logic (from Ms Karma) and things of the heart (from me) when it comes to our useless advice? Do you think moving across the street into another building will stop me being able to “feel you?” Just because I had on my tin foil hat at my brothers funeral doesn’t mean the spiritual cord we share has been disconnected.

Do you really want to miss out on almost making me pee my pants from laughing when we’re on break?

All I know is Monday I will show up for work forgetting you’re not here anymore. I’ll be sitting at my desk, look around and say, “Hey, wait a minute…Where’d Todd go?” I’ll just have to trust that you’re safe in another dimension.

I hate to see you go, Hot Toddy’s Toaster Oven. And if your new boss speaks to you 50 times louder and meaner than the ex-navy, golf-playing female former-boss, you let me know. Remember, I have ovaries that clank and I’ll always have your back.

Love,
Auburn Pisces

1 comment:

Muhammad Amir said...

I've grown tired of saving this bottle of Port. I bought it over 10 years ago and planned on opening it with my ex on our 10th anniversary. We didn't make it that far. Close, but no cigar.Next I decided that I would wait until I had f. oster toaster oven