MAILBAG!!!

Been a fun week, let's keep the train-a-rollin...

Peddler,

I'm a smoker and was wondering what your theory was on the ins and outs of the work smoke?

Andrew, GA

Andrew,

I think the smoke situation in the work world is a bizarre and interesting phenomenon. The first question I have is how is it fair that smokers get four 15 minute breaks a day that non-smokers don't get? It seems that every other hour a few employees head on down to the dimly lit corner of the parking garage to get their cigarette fix while I'm stuck sitting at my desk (not for long, I'm thinking of starting up smoking). Now granted, I'm not actually doing work anyway, but I'm sure my boss assumes I am. Then I waltz over to Stans cube to discuss how hard it is to hit on a female bartender and my boss criticizes me for slacking on the job. How is this fair? There are ten of your employees chatting up right now in a cloud of smoke (so jealous).

These smokers are an interesting breed, and for some reason they only relate to their own and look down on the rest of society (just bought a pack, trying to fit in). Sometimes I'll go down there just to take notes (smoke a cigarette with them) and analyze the persona of the casual smoker. First of all, when I see someone smoking they automatically go up 8 points in my 'cool rating', which is a complicated and scientific index I have developed over the years. In case you were wondering, George Clooney is the highest on the list with a 93. If he started smoking he'd be over 100, that's how freaking cool the guy is (I just went up to 64 with my new habit, and I'm buying a leather jacket today to get to 70).

Peddles,

I'm planning on quitting my job next month, should I take a massive vacation beforehand?

Adam, VA

Adam,

I was surprised that not many people know this, but save your vacation days buddy. When you quit your job the company is going to pay you for whatever vacation days you have left over. Granted, you could have a rip roaring trip before you quit but there is a much better alternative. Whatever your next job is, make the start date a month after your last day with your current company. After you quit, take the money you received from your vacation days and get your travel on. Also, make sure you take at least one week of that month to sit at home and do absolutely nothing. When I quit my last job, my entire first week unemployed consisted of the following...

10am - Wake up
10:03am - Go back to sleep
11:00am - Wake up again
11:20am - Walk to the coffee shop and do a crossword puzzle
11:33am - Give up on crossword puzzle after I've filled in the 12 clues that were either fill in the blank, a celebrities name, or a sports clue
12:23pm - Sit on my couch and proceed to watch a movie
2:23pm - Watch another movie
4:23pm - Watch another movie (usually I make this one a tear-jerker like Rudy or Field of Dreams)
6:23pm - Roommate comes home and asks why I'm crying
7:35pm - Eat something out of the fridge that is definitely my roommates and make it obvious that I did so by not doing the dishes
8:31pm - Start drinking
1:48am - Wake up in the parking lot of a Denny's with a half-eaten breakfast omelet sitting on my shirt

REPEAT

Peddler,

Thanks for the Charles update last week, anything new from him lately???

Bob, UT

Hey Bob,

I'm glad you asked. After our lunch debacle last week I've made it my sole mission to stay far away from the guy that I groomed to be the next 'me' at this company. Well this past week I get invited to play in a poker game at a buddy's house, and I take him up on the invite just because I heard there would be free hummus there. I love hummus. And free. Anyway, I walk in the door, and guess who's sitting at the card table, our good friend Charlie. When we first made eye contact I could tell he was thinking 'oh god no, please tell me he has a twin brother and Steve didn't just walk in the room'. But no, I have no twin pal, you're dealing with me for the next few hours or until I go all-in on the third hand. I'm a terrible poker player.

We make small talk and I act as polite as I can to the guy, just to say screw you for thinking I'm a maniac. But then I eat a bit of hummus, down six scotch on the rocks, and I'm a mess. I'm going all in with anything suited, I'm raising the pot even though I don't remember what my hand is, and I'm misdealing every time the cards are in my possession. My friends there don't seem to mind, mainly because they know they're going to take my money, but Charles is getting frustrated. Finally, I get a hand. It's a ten and king of clubs and the flop comes ace, seven, four, all clubs. I've won the hand, get off me. For some reason I wake up from my drunken stupor and start playing like John Malcovich in Rounders. I'm dipping crackers in hummus then examining the food and slowly eating it like they were goddamn Oreo's.

The only person to call my double the pot raise after the flop is our boy Charles, who has a staunch look on his face. He thinks I'm bluffing, poor kid. Another club ends up coming on the river and he goes all in. I obviously call, and when his queen of clubs doesn't hold up to my king, I let out a merciful 'you are mine' in a broken Russian accent. Well our good friend Charles loses it, from what I'm guessing is a harbored hatred for me that he's had since his first day sitting at my desk during training. He starts screaming and cussing and looking like an insane person while I'm sitting there with hummus all over my chin giggling like a school girl. Eventually he stormed out of the apartment and hasn't talked to me since. I ended being the next one out of the game three hands later when I decided to go all in just so I could go have a cigarette. Oh yea, I'm addicted now.