What’s so great about having my very own blog is I can change it up any time I want to, just like my hair, clothes, furniture layout . . .. And in an effort to always keep things interesting, change is important. This principle applies to any area of life. And, I would not have this blog if it were not for the excruciatingly slow moments in my life that I should be thankful for. I’m more thankful about the ability to change my underwear when I want. (Inside joke that only my mother would get).
Other than the internet, three newspapers, and some cheesy wall hangings, there is nothing interesting in my office. But for some reason when a man walks in the door, they find this office extremely interesting. They look at me, and then their eyes are immediately diverted to the corner of the room. Their faces light up and they stand up taller with a gaping mouth. Once their brains begin to register again, they exclaim, “Wow, that is cool!” And Vinny, don’t deny it, you did the exact same thing. No, it’s not a picture of a centerfold.
What makes all the men giddy when they visit is a very old, cracked, dried out Wooden Indian. (See picture below). I have yet to figure out the attraction. Women see him as a big waste of space, including me since my desk is right next him. He has not started talking to me yet, so I see no need for him to hang around.
Therefore, in an effort to make the day more lively, I offer to sell him every time a man comments on the great Wooden Indian in the office. I have been told that this would be a grave mistake and its owner does not want to part from him. I figured if the price is right, he won’t mind. There was a delivery guy that actually considered the sale. I couldn’t believe it. Now, each time I attempt to sell him the price goes up. It’s well over $5,000. Recently, I took a peek at eBay’s offerings of wooden indians. There were only two that measured up. He is about 7′ tall you know. They were priced from $1,800 to $2,400. The Wooden Indian that peers over me all day is much nicer looking too.
I can’t wait for the day that the owner walks in as the Wooden Indian is being wheeled off on a dollie as I enjoy the zeros written on a big fat check. Maybe then we can actually get a scanner for the office. Any takers?