Wednesday, September 25, 2002
Today I got some junk e-mail with a subject line of CAN’T YOU MAKE LOVE LIKE I DO?
I was at my desk reading it when my boss came over to tell me I needed to do something about my hair. I like my boss, and I don’t have a problem with my job. I have a door I can close, and I listen to Bad Religion while I work. The amount of work I do and my salary are perfectly proportionate.
For the most part, they leave me alone.
Until my boss came to talk to me about my hair.

“Really?” I asked. “The clients never see me back here.”
Rumor has it the guy has only one testicle. I don’t know where this story came from – I’ve never heard anything about cancer – and I imagine it’s somewhat apocryphal. I think he’s straight, but I don’t have any evidence either way.
I like him. He’s intelligent.

“I know, and it’s not really a big deal,” he said. “But it’s part of the face we want to put on the department, so to speak. All I’m asking for is a periodic brushing.”
We both laughed at that one. I knew he wasn’t breaking my balls.
“No problem,” I told him. I felt the back of my head with my left hand. “I guess it does get a little unkempt. Maybe I’ll water it down.”

He stood up and again said it wasn’t that big of a deal.
“I’ll fix my hair if you let me ask you one question,” I said.
“Why would you put a cartoon character peeing on a Chevrolet logo on the back of your car?”
“I wouldn’t,” he said.
“No, I know you wouldn’t,” I agreed. “But why do people do that? Urinating on the logo of an automobile. It seems so strange to me.”

He clenched his lips while he thought about it. I guess that's what they call pursing your lips.
“Well, it’s like you mentioned yesterday,” he said. “It’s a way for people to Do Their Thing, only here it’s kinda at someone else’s expense.”
“So if I drive a Chevrolet and see that piss landing on a Chevy logo, can I assume that the owner of that vehicle would like to pee on me?”
I couldn’t believe the thought I was putting into this.
“That may be a bit extreme, but I guess you could say that,” he said as he stepped back out the door. “But I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll stick to my hair.”

But what a cycle, I thought as I started The Gray Race back up on the computer CD player.
If I’m getting peed on, am I supposed to just let it rain down?
Or should I poo back?
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