I'm not sure if I have mentioned the Cookie Thief, my most recent coworker addition (I think in November or December, but, whatever) and the only man (or woman) in my building who was foolish enough to ask if I was gonna eat my cookie. My bosses? figured out within a week that cookies are the way to my heart.
The Cookie Thief is an odd duck. Sometimes we have very interesting conversations about very intelligent things, and sometimes, he drives me crazy.
Today he drove me crazy. Now, I don't talk politics very often and that's mostly because I have learned not to. There are just some people in this world who have their opinion and there isn't another. CT's opinion today was that it is Barak Obama's fault that the stock market took a down turn today. Never mind that it's been up and down like crazy lately. I announced that if tanks when I fart. While he tried to back up his reasoning about various wonders of GWB, with what he referred to as fact, I pointed out that technically I don't have to believe in anything unless I see it for myself, something I consider frequently when offering opinions about things. If I didn't see it and experience it, it might not be true.
Mostly, I was being obnoxious. Partially I was trying to prove a point. Just because he says it's so, doesn't mean it is. (by the way, I have decided that the moon may be made of cream cheese because it's white. I don't know that it isn't because I have not tasted the moon. No, I would NOT like to taste YOUR moon cheese. eeew)
After coming and going from my office all day spouting the same doomsday crap about how Obama is going to run us into the ground, I finally announced that I didn't want any more politics in my office. That they were stressing me out. I didn't mention the part where they were keeping me from working. So he and another coworker with whom I don't always agree, turned to the theory that the world will end.
The name Nostradamus came up.
I have a particular dislike of the predictions of Nostradamus.
You see, he predicted an earthquake. (according to my step dad. I've never read his predictions and therefore cannot say whether he did.) That earthquake was supposed to be "the big one" (heh. I said big one...) and California was supposed to fall into the sea. It was May 1993.
I was 15 and had been on backstage crew for my high school musical. The one W was lead in. The one where he once kissed me backstage in between scenes. Just a little kiss, but EVERYTHING to a 15 year old with a crush. I thought I would fly away.
I only got to crew one night though. My parents made me go out to the desert property to wait for the earthquake. Out to the middle of the desert where we would be safe from falling buildings. How I envied Seester who was old enough to announce that she would take her chances in the city. I wanted to stay behind with her. My responsibilities to the play were nothing. My desire to attend the cast party fell on deaf ears.
At the predicted time on the predicted day, I sat on a bench and waited. For an earthquake that never came.
I told my coworkers the shortened version of this story. They started to argue. I kicked them out of my office. And emailed B.
I would like to introduce Bradendamus. Who will now be my personal Soothsayer. And I shall pass along his predictions to you. Complete with sound effects.
"In 15 days, I predict a dog will eat something out of your trash, and not clean up after himself..."
**sound of thunder**
"And your roommate will leave bits of her clothing you do not want to see around for your consternation."
These things have to be recorded somewhere, right? (yes, the sound effects are his...)