--The Hell?

How do you burn something in the microwave? Really. I'm not saying ruin food. I mean burn. Is it possible? I didn't think so. I've never done it, never heard of anyone that's done it.

Somehow one of my coworkers burned a dinner roll in the microwave. Burned. Charred. A stench filling the office not unlike that of a freshly scorched loaf. The best part might be that I'm told he ate it.

No Doodle for You!

Okay, this is kind of a mess. But I wanted to splash all of this stuff up here that I could. Drawing isn't my only claim to fame. Sure, there's no fame either. However I do get the chance to design point of sale items from time to time. These are actually fairly old. But some of them are still kept in stock at the Press.

Chuck's Wagon

Chuck is one of the warehouse personnel at The Press. He's kind of in charge of riding around on his forklift and drinking coffee. Not necessarily in that order. Anyhow, for some reason he has his own office secluded in a rarely travelled portion of our most distant warehouse.

Anyway, Chuck couldn't be bothered to bring a palette full of materials anywhere near our office. Then the plant manager would wonder, rather out loud at Bob, why our materials are just sitting around instead of being put away. At which point Bob made it clear that it was unrealistic that we travel across the plant like the Fellowship of the Ring multiple times to get our film, plates, paper, and chemicals. "Why is it so far away?" wondered the plant manager. Because Chuck is a douchebag. A lazy douchebag.

Bob was assured that this would never happen again by the annoyed plant manager. Then Bob proudly told us this story and capped it with, "I fixed HIS wagon!"

Hearing Problems

Mike is an avid hunter and guitarist. At his age, with so many years of not using ear protection, he's got some trouble hearing people. So when we talk to him we have to yell. Literally.

The image you see this week is pretty common. You start to ask him a question and he either ignores you or he gives you an unrelated answer and walks away. It's frustrating when you're the one asking the question. But when you're not it's hilarious!

Bob vs. Martin

Sadly, this is probably the most enduring memory everyone at The Press will have of Bob. And for some of us, Martin, too. There isn't much of a story here. That antiquated colloquialism holds true in this case: a picture is worth a thousand words. At least enough to make it obvious.

One muggy morning Bob walked into the filthy bathroom we all share at The Press. And to his surprise he did spy Martin! With his tight jeans pulled down so that he could inspect his ass! This is an artist's interpretation of Bob's reaction; he says it's accurate. To his credit (discredit?) Martin didn't flinch and carried on with his creepy investigation of his sphincter pillows.

Fartin' Martin

Sure, it's obvious. It's in his name. So he's a little gassy. Sounds like a real Garbage Pail Kid! Anyway Martin's that guy you work with that looks down his nose at most people. He gripes about them and how they can't do their jobs. He doesn't have a lot of friends at work; and the ones he does have he tries to turn against everyone else. He's also something of a pecker checker...

RAAAAAAWN!

Like many businesses the Press has a secretary in the front office. Often she has to come on the loud speaker to tell people they have phone calls, or packages, or whatever. But Charlotte's delivery is this awful screech that seems to come from an antediluvian time! Ron always dreaded hearing his name on the loudspeaker, "RAAAAWN!" He always felt like he was going to be dinner for pterodactyl babies! I don't blame him, that sound probably haunted his dreams.

Took a Week Off, So...

Double update weekend? You bet your Aunt Petunia's sweet mincemeat pie! *gag*

A printing press has a lot of moving parts. And like that huge expensive machine The Press in which I work has its own moving parts. This charming fella is one of them. Commonly referred to as Machete in the graphics department he makes an extra $10 a week cleaning and maintaining the bathrooms! And who says there's no room to move up at The Press?

Indiana Jones

We have a host of colorful characters here at the printing press I work at. This is Tom. He's a helper for one of the litho press operators where I work. But we call him Indiana Jones. Despite his scruffy and unkempt appearance he bares a striking resemblance to the intrepid adventurer. Albeit an older and far more weary version. But the fellas from graphics and I never fail to break into a rendition of Indy's theme every time we see him. I hear he smells pretty rancid, but I keep my distance. I'm content to take the other press operators' word for it. But I decided to depict him on one of his better days. Namely when he had court and got a haircut.