Sshh.

It's me. I'm in disguise.

Some lout has been fiddling around with templates and not previewing them first to see if they'll actually work.

Yes, well, I've somewhat maimed my old template. I'm still tinkering around with it, but for now the only way for a man of my limited knowledge of HTML to display anything is to reset to a default template.

I feel so dirty...

I should also begin the painstaking process of putting up all my links on this weird template. Woohoo.

Hm, what have I been up to, you ask? Mostly running around being a jumble of uncollected thoughts. A few other amusing distractions have happened, though.

I was invited to play on the flag football team at work. I was flattered, but then I found out that most of the players were injured and they were desperate for people.

Good thing I'm not proud.

I hadn't played football since Thanksgiving of 2001, so the game on Saturday was interesting. Personally, I did great, but our team lost and one guy broke his ankle. I felt bad for him, but at least I'll have a spot on the team for another 4-6 weeks.

I'm in the midst of a prank war at work with my friend Nicole. I'm in the lead at the moment.

Part of our job is to open large, provocative stacks of mail. While she was away from her desk, I grabbed an envelope, scooped it full of oatmeal, and then stuck it into her pile of mail. A few minutes later, I hear a shriek from the other side of the cubicle wall.

She was holding up the envelope between two fingers as if it were a dead trout. Everyone began to gather around to see what all the disgusted sounds were about.

The envelope was oozing out globs of oatmeal. Nicole was frantic with what to do with it because she thought it was real mail that had come in through the post office.

Everyone is still gathered around watching. Most of my co-workers had seen what I had done and were playing along. I reached out and took the envelope from her. I held it up to my nose and smelled it. "It doesn't smell too bad," I said as Nicole turned an interesting greenish color.

I plucked out a big chunk of oatmeal, looked at it carefully, and then I ate it. Nicole screamed. "Oh my god! What are you doing?! You don't even know what that is!" I ignore her and continue eating oatmeal out of the envelope.

Everyone else is laughing hysterically. Poor Nicole was confused and disgusted. More and more people were coming by to see what the hubbub is all about. I was laughing and almost choking on the oatmeal. Tears were streaming from my eyes as I listened to Nicole frantically explain to the new people that I was eating mystery goo that came from the post office.

Finally, I could take it no longer and I show her the corner of the envelope where I had scratched out the return address and written "From Guillermo, With Love."

The moral of the story is:

Revenge is a dish best served cold and lumpy.