Few things in life can match the exhilaration generated by an unannounced visit from an oversized processed dairy product wearing sunglasses.
Providing further proof that I work in a very odd place of business, I looked up at about noon today to see a large string cheese mascot prancing through my office. Instead of questioning why that might be the case or perhaps wondering how he got into the building and whether this might be a clever terrorist attack, I grabbed my camera. I turned the corner to see that he (He? Can you really assign a sex role to a dairy convenience food?) had begun physically accosting our columnist, Steve.
Considering Steve's dimensions, (He and I are part of a loose social affiliation known as "The Behemoths." You figure out why.), the cheese clearly did not understand that he might be messing with the bull and soon getting the horns.
Something about the cheese stick's exuberance won Steve over. The gift basket chock full of wine, gourmet sauces and vinegars might have had a role in that coercion.
Dave was quite taken with his new friend. I understand there will be some sort of domestic dairy commitment ceremony next week.
One moment of great pride for me came when another of our columnists, Dan, bellowed, "GET THE SOMBRERO!" That told me I had truly trained my colleagues to utilize the Mexican chapeau whenever a singularly bizarre situation presented itself.
I ran. I fetched. I placed the sombrero on top of the cheese's stringy dreadlocks. He (she?) knealt to accept the offering. I stood on my tiptoes to accommodate the height. And then the photo above was shot.
Yet another moment of magic captured forever for The Sombrero Project.
It was at this point that things began to turn ugly. The Cheese Stick, clearly enamored with his overwhelmingly positive reception, attempted to capitalize on the good will of his audience by, um, manhandling the staff. The female staff, to be specific. In the shot above, he (she?) attempts to recreate the blindfold-in-front-of-the-refrigerator scene from "9 1/2 Weeks" with poor Mary, who had no idea that the Cheese had commenced to performing some uncalled for pelvic thrusts in her general direction. The security guard, who looks deceptively placid and stoic in this photo, sprang into action and threw a Figure-8 chokehold on the Cheese until he (she?) relented his (her?) grasp on Mary. Thank God he was there to save the moment.
The moment will forever from this day be known in the annals of our corporate history as "The String Cheese Incident."
Let the healing begin.
Not satisfied with harassing Mary, the stick moved on to Karen, whom he (she?) attempted to sway with a suave, debonair Charles Aznevoir-like act. He (she?) was as wholly unsuccessful with Karen as he (she?) was with Mary. Way to stay strong, my colleagues.
When I say that the Cheese delivered the goods, I may have been understating things a tad. Here, you can see that a crowd has formed to cast lots for the mascot's unholy offering. The draw of promotional booze and cheese was strong enough to lure Lyn from the other side of the office. Clearly, this was Satan's treasure, from which no guiltless pleasure could be gained.
Rebuffed, horny and, quite frankly, out of trinkets to dispense, the Cheese made his (her?) way to the exit, broken and embittered. It didn't help that he (she?) was suffering from this social indignity as well:
Visible Panty Lines.
This cheese thing, simply by virtue of being a cheese thing, obviously feels that it can invade people's space with impunity. Clowns do this too. And, that's why I hate farookin' clowns, and now I hate cheese things too.
Posted by: Parkway Rest Stop at March 31, 2004 01:50 AMOk, so how come cool shit like that never happened when I was at the Trib?
Posted by: tom at March 31, 2004 02:03 AMThe String Cheese Incident! Ha!
Where do I sign up for my visit from the string cheese fairy? It looks like a formidable wrasslin' adversary.
Thanks for the laugh :)
Posted by: blunted at March 31, 2004 06:50 AMWhile I must admire the devotion of my priests, I nevertheless must say this one was a false one. What self-respecting Cheese-Worshipper attempts to convert the masses without beer and strippers?
I gotta work on my guys, I really do. Meeting!