“What the hell?!” I shouted, in outrage. Then I put my shoulder down, and rammed the machine like De’Cody Fagg.
But, of course, there’s never a positive outcome to such a scenario. Once the vending sequence is completed, successfully or otherwise, there’s no going back. Robert Goddard, the father of modern rocketry, wrote extensively on this subject.
So, I growled like a dog, and moved to another machine. I’d be paying $2.50 for a bottle of soda, which broiled my brisket, but I needed a cold, caffeinated beverage, dammit.
The other machine didn’t have any Mountain Dews in it, so I chose a Lipton iced tea with lemon. And the thing dispensed a solid block of ice in the shape of a bottle. I’m not kidding, I could’ve used that tea to defend myself, in case of attack.
“Am I on Candid Camera?” I shouted inside the break room, to people who couldn’t care if I live or die. What was I going to do with this thing? It was a teaberg! Grrr…
No way was I going to pay $3.75 for a drink, this ain’t San Francisco. So I just sighed and walked back to my desk, with an enlarged, rock-hard blunt instrument in my hand. And I’m talking about the iced tea, just to be clear…
I sat the thing on my desk, underneath a lamp, and wondered how long it would take to thaw out. It was roughly 3:20 pm when I purchased it, and wanted to make a note of when there was no visible ice left inside the bottle.
Anyone care to guess?
At one point I decided to remove the lid, thinking that might speed up the process. But it was a mistake. A column of brown ice kept inching its way upward, then melting down the sides of the bottle. So I had a sticky mess on my hands, as well. Call me a radical, but I’m not really a fan of gloopy, sticky workspaces.
I don’t have any prizes to give away, except bragging rights, I guess. But tell me when you think my plastic bottle of Lipton iced tea was finally ice free. At what time of night, after its purchase at 3:20? Use the comments link below.
And I overslept again today. I’m operating with a severe sleep deficit, and have bags under my eyes that’ll never go away. Yeah, they’re permanent by now…
When I’m working I hit the sack around 3:30 am, and the alarm starts bugging the hell out of me at 9:30. So, I get six hours on a good night. I do get caught-up a little on the weekends, but not enough.
What about you? Do you get much more than six hours per night? I think that’s pretty normal nowadays. And weren’t we supposed to be living a life of leisure by now, with flying-cars and robot maids and whatnot? Wotta rip-off!
So, please guess the melting time of my iced tea, and tell us about your sleep habits, if you wanna. And I’ll be back with something more substantial tomorrow.
See you guys then!