I learned the word "Maw" from News Radio =-D

I just got back from a meeting. It was a quick meeting. A meeting to discuss a recent re-org, or really an initial-org, of our wiki pages. There was a powerpoint presentation, as often there will be.

Before this meeting I went to lunch alone. Not because I am a loser with out friends but because sometimes I really dislike people and would rather knock off a few chapters in lieu of their company. The book du jour was "Freeware" by Rudy Rucker. The last in a series I suggest you try. (if you're addled enough to enjoy cyber-punk)

Whoever prepared my sandwich felt it was unnecessary to remove the wax lining from my deli meat. I probably downed two-thirds of the sandwich before I realized something was different. I didn't ask for my money back or even complain, I did what any red-blooded man would do, I pulled at the wax like a errant sweater thread, threw it on the plate and moved on with my life. Still, I felt more nauseated than usual when I walked into the conference room and I figure that has something to do with it.

The conference room had that unmistakable clinical smell that comes so close to ruining so many dalliances. It smelled like a condom. More subtle was that general smell of sex, so hot when you're horny and sooooo disgusting when you are not.

I didn't have time to point this out to my colleagues before one of them walked in with some very pungent indian food. Throughout the meeting she, next to me, quietly ate her lunch. Still, I was full and nauseated twice over so her polite mastication sounded, to me, like a cow with nasal congestion chewing her cud slowly and loudly.

So bad wax in my belly and knowledge of recent rendezvous on the very desk I was staring at to drown out the grinning, smacking maw next to me, I started to feel really sick.

No climax. I didn't vomit or anything, but I still feel awful and felt I should somehow record all that.