Friday, Feb. 20, 2004 - 11:56 a.m.

3:37 p.m. Trapped in a meeting with other senior level executives I passed the time making mental note of how many of us have brown eyes vs. blue eyes vs. hazel. How many of us, fortunate enough to have hair, choose to part it on the left, on the right and those with the misfortune to have chosen to part it down the middle. Upon completion of said surveys I turned to assessing the body flaws of those standing in the rear of the room, circling problem areas with the blue Sharpie fine point permanent marker in my minds eye.

3:42 p.m. Just as I was about to begin another of my highly acclaimed and sought after consultations on yet another colleague I am rudely disturbed by the outside management motivational consultant giving cheap soapbox oration from the dais. "Galude, is it?" he queried as he lifted his glasses up and away from his eyes in an attempt to read the name from his roster. "Actually Sir, it�s Gar-loo." replied the man seated directly across from me and the only one taking meticulous notes on his Steno. The consultant apologetically said, "Pardon me." He, in panic response, corrects the consultant saying, "Oh, no Sir, I�m not Garloo" as if it was the most repugnant and absurd idea ever suggested. He continues, "I�m Asskisser, Sir. Brownnose Asskisser." "Oh, yes, here�s your name."

3:45 p.m. It was quite fun watching Brownnose squirm in his seat as the consultant jotted a lengthy notation down in his roster. When finished he moved the eyeglasses resting on his forehead back to his nose surveyed the room asking, "Garloo?" "Yo, right here" I replied. After a worthy pause and a deliberately serious look he asks me, "Garloo, tell me, who is your hero? And why?"

3:46 p.m. Who is my hero and why? What is he an idiot? What kind of inane question is that? What is the purpose of asking such an empty question, void of sense or intelligence, purposeless, pointless and useless? Is he really expecting me to say Neil Armstrong or my dad or some other p.c. answer delivered so heart felt that even the straight boys playing tickle tickle under the conference table feel a sharp tug to their heartstrings?

3:47 p.m. As a self-proclaimed expert in this game, giving it no brainwork or heed I confidently assert, "Kathie Lee Gifford. Because after being brutally pummeled with lemons time after time after time she has always been successful in making lemonade. And although an extremely bitter lemonade, lemonade nonetheless."

3:48 p.m. The longer he stared at me the more difficult it became to not roll my eyes in judgement of his ineptitude. Finally, he moves on, "Brownnose, same question." "I�d have to say Neil Armstrong�

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