June 11, 2003

spastic hell copier, etc.

I guess any piece of electronic equipment could cause a fire at some point, I just didn't think it would be so understated or in the copy machine. And I suppose it can't really be called a fire without flames and smoke and the like, but there was some serious singeing going on. Allow me to set the scene: imagine... a real estate office. There are phones ringing (office and cell, with a variety of ring tones.) The buzzer for the garage explodes in a torrent of ear raping noise. I was called to the upstairs annex because of a paper jam that no one could find. It was a daunting task but I had just won a tough game of computer solitaire and felt up to the challenge. As I climbed the clanging metal stairs a feeling of forboding overtook my calm. My heart rate quickened perceptibly as I held my proximity key up to the sensor and pushed open the door. I approached the suspicious machine cautiously, leaning forward to read the LCD for some hint as to the whereabouts of the dreaded paper jam. "Open Exit Panel," it said, "Caution, May Be Hot," it continued. I carefully maneuvered the auto-collating device out of the way so I had a clear view of the exit panel. An odd smell reached my nostrils and brought back some olfactory memory which I struggled to place. My hand shook ever so slightly as it undid the latch to open the panel, and then.... as it swung outward with a resigned squeak....absolutely nothing interesting happened.
But there were a good four or five sheets of mangled and singed paper, quite appropriately "jammed" in the exit-roller-guy. I had to dig them out with a pen. Then I fixed the fax machine.


Posted by liz at 12:51 PM | Comments (1)

June 06, 2003


who ever would have thought that not 2 weeks after my miserably cold, wet New England trip i would be bitching about the heat. it's hot. but the kind of hot that would go sooo nicely with a swimming pool or and beach house or a lake or something. or with air-conditioning. which is why i'm torn. the weather being as gorgeous as it is, there is a big part of me that wants to play hooky from work like the rest of the city and go out and enjoy it. However, there is another part of me that wants to be behind my desk with the A/C pumping, watching all the little ant-people scurry around outside. anyway, this weekend practically begs for a barbeque, so in the words of the poet Homer:

Come to my BBBQ*

*the extra B is for BYOBB.

Hey, goober! Where's the meat?

You don't make friends with sa-lad!

Posted by liz at 11:42 AM | Comments (1)