tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81238182024-03-07T01:48:49.950-06:00ZoeTracker 3000Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger199125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-11817442733349227182011-12-02T10:59:00.001-06:002011-12-02T10:59:49.489-06:00HaI just used my peripheral vision to catch Zoë looking at me. <br /><br />“What are you looking at?!” <br />“I wanted to see if there was a note about Kristi on the white board.”<br />“Well, is there one?’<br />“No.”<br />“Then why don’t you write one?”<br />“No…”<br /><br />Right. If Zoë wants to know where I keep my gold, this campaign of furtive peeking will get her nowhere.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-33015982137634607712011-11-30T12:24:00.000-06:002011-11-30T12:52:19.043-06:00Shoe-Related Non-EventZoe is wearing purple low top Chuck Taylors and I am wearing black high top Chuck Taylors, so obviously I asked Zoë if she wanted to have a Chuck Taylor kick fight. She said no - she “doesn’t like to be kicked.” I don’t think she understood the question. I also think she would lose, as I am almost certainly a superior Chuck Taylor Kick Fighter. (Undefeated)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-3405744583718515712011-11-30T09:47:00.001-06:002011-11-30T09:50:08.934-06:00It BeginsZoë was wondering why the meeting rooms were recently outfitted with flatscreen TVs and shiny, wood-like flooring. “Don’t go into those meeting rooms,” I warned her. She seemed to believe me when I explained that these rooms harbor dragons that steal milk. Not true, but she fell for it! Stupid. Dragons hate milk!<br /><br />She also asked me why I’d barely chewed any of the emergency gum she stashed for me. I told her that I bring my own gum and use the emergency gum for <span style="font-style:italic;">emergencies</span>. <br /><br />If Zoë had her way she’d eat all the canned hams in my fallout shelter and blow my zombie ammo on skeet.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-20718499670443495442011-11-29T18:04:00.000-06:002011-11-29T18:04:00.050-06:00The Future is Now, AgainLook, I’d like to track Zoe again, but really, what’s the point? On an average day, I’m over here thinking about robots and enjoying a bowl of cold cereal. Occasionally it will be Golden Grahams. Other days, it’s Frosted Flakes! And I’m fine with that!<br /><br />Anyway, Zoe’s leave of absence expires tomorrow - she has no choice but to show her face. <br /><br />I have already hidden several sausages in her workstation.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-7809004912147368842009-01-02T15:53:00.002-06:002009-01-02T16:09:07.676-06:00NamesYesterday Elka was trying to get me to agree that “Dudley” is a good name for Zoe’s baby. I could not agree to such a detestable name. Elka badgered me about it for a minute or so, but I wouldn’t budge. “Well, Dudley is better than Snakebite, or Mouse, or whatever Steve wanted to name the baby,” she said.<br /><br />No, no, and no. Snakebite and Mouse are perfectly respectable names, though I don’t think Steve was in favor of either. “Dudley” is scarcely mentionable in polite society. I’m not saying Zoe circulates amongst polite society; I’m just saying that Dudley is a loathsome name, unacceptable outside of sketchy English earls in the court of Elizabeth I. <br /><br />Snakebite or Mouse, she said. Snakebite or Mouse.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-21940776313268522312009-01-02T15:41:00.000-06:002009-01-02T15:43:18.629-06:00More Fruitless SniffingMore new rubber stamps in the office. When I told Zoe about them she immediately asked me if they smell like Band-aids. “I don’t know,” I told her, because I didn’t know, and because it is polite to answer questions with words rather than mute exasperation. <br /><br />In case you were wondering, the stamps smelled a bit plasticy.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-1193904377266592712009-01-02T15:31:00.002-06:002009-01-02T15:36:34.618-06:00TreatsZoe made peanut-marshmallow-chocolate treats and she brought some for me. As she presented me with the treats, the celestial sphere burst open and the Edwin Hawkins Singers swarmed through, belting out “Oh Happy Day” in thunderous tones. They were kind enough to replace the bits about Jesus washing sins away with homemade snack-related lyrics. Zoe claimed that she’d normally never make such a ordinary treat, but that it sounded good at the time. I ate two and lo, they were very good.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-70767856604185019742008-12-30T15:48:00.003-06:002008-12-30T15:56:10.349-06:00Tiny PersonZoe saw <em>The Curious Case of Benjamin Button</em> last weekend. “I just don’t know how they got Brad Pitt’s face on that tiny person,” she told me. I had no response, because I didn’t see the movie and I don’t know how Brad Pitt’s face gets on tiny people, or, once on, how or if it is later removed. Once you get Brad Pitt’s face, there may be no turning back. You may have Brad Pitt’s face forever. How am I to know? Can anyone know? Is such knowledge knowable? Anyway, I don’t think she liked the movie very much, probably because it triggered this heavy epistemological celebrity-faced tiny-person-related crisis. Or maybe Steve didn’t properly saturate the popcorn with industrial butter-flavored oil derivative. I just don’t know.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-5785316899121735492008-12-16T15:28:00.003-06:002008-12-16T16:10:31.026-06:00The Other DayToday Zoe grabbed a rubber stamp from my desk and said, “You know, I smelled this stamp the other day. It smells like Band-aids.” I stared at her in disbelief for a moment, of course. Then I sniffed the stamp in order to verify her assessment. I was smart enough to sniff it away from Zoe so she couldn’t ink me by smooshing it into my face. And you know what? It smelled strongly of Band-aids. It made me wonder how often Zoe sneaks around the office, sniffing items from other people's desks. It also made we wonder why Zoe won't smell the jar. It's like Meatloaf knew Zoe when he wrote, "I'd Sniff Anything for No Reason (But I Won't Sniff That)." I can't stand Meatloaf myself, but I hear others are quite into him.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-54137820641144781612008-12-12T11:39:00.003-06:002008-12-12T12:15:05.092-06:00MY Ergonomic FootrestSeveral million years ago, Zoe bequeathed me <a href="http://zoeslog.blogspot.com/2004/12/now-its-mine.html">her neglected footrest</a> - either that or I burgled it, whatever. Now she wants it returned because her back aches or something. I think this may be part of some backward ploy to get at my gold. Nice try, infidels.<br /><br />Zoe also told me her dog has fleas.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-54676233892070320242008-12-10T15:39:00.000-06:002008-12-11T14:58:46.332-06:00Wakey WakeyLook here, I think I should track Zoe again for a while. Not forever, of course. There are limits. I haven’t bothered to track her for some time, so I’ll bring you up to date briefly: Zoe married Steve, had her hair cut, has yet to smell the jar, made cupcakes without bringing me one, and has a bun in the oven. She now wears trousers with elastic waistbands, as is the custom in these parts. I have taken the liberty of naming her child "Christopher Robin Meriwether." If it's a girl I'll call her "Whitecake Withchocofrosting."<br /><br />Today Zoe bought a fruitcake and it smelled like canned baked beans.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-52078933282056577752007-12-31T20:33:00.000-06:002007-12-31T16:13:36.051-06:00MondayIt’s the last day of 2007, and do you know what Zoe did? She went to the mall to watch National Treasure: Book of Secrets. National Treasure! Book of Secrets! This, from a woman with a doctorate in forestry and international finance! Jesus. She wanted to watch Sweeney Todd later in the day, but she wasn’t sure she could handle a two-hour wait in the mall. What, Orange Julius was closed?<br /><br />I saw Sweeney Todd. It would have been good if it hadn’t been for the incessant singing.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-11546613048191421982007-08-29T16:52:00.001-05:002007-09-11T14:40:05.152-05:00AfternoonToday Zoe told me that she's joining a tennis league, and that it's just a matter of time before she makes it to Wimbledon. "Oh really? And I still don't know what love means," I said. She explained that love means zero, and then she went off about how her t-shirt rubs against her upper arm. Elka said something about a Russki wearing fancy clothes and Annette insisted that love is French. At any rate, that's when I decided to sit down and look busy.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-51285460282089747822007-08-29T16:29:00.000-05:002007-08-29T16:49:27.891-05:00Chocolate MilkI was going to post something about Zoe, but I just drank a cup of chocolate milk and now I'm too full. But maybe a little something: Zoe just said, "I don't know why I bother putting my chewed gum in my secret gum place anymore, because who wants old chewed-up gum?" Then I said some awesome things that blew her mind, and she said something that I can't remember about old habits dying hard. Then she walked back to her desk while muttering something. "What?" I asked. "What did you say?" But she wouldn't repeat it. Probably because it's embarrassing to repeat things like "Thank you for opening my eyes with your extraordinary insight - let me buy you a cake."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-87239389137885320622007-07-24T10:50:00.000-05:002007-07-24T10:57:15.352-05:00FoonZoe just asked me if it was 'Annette Fudicello' or 'Annette Funicello.' I was all, “Funicello,” and she was all “Fudicello?” and I was all, “No, Funicello, <em>Foon</em>. Foon.” “Food? Or Foon?” “FOON! <em>Foon</em>icello! Why do you want to know?” And she was all, “I was just thinking of Annette.” <br /><br />Later Zoe walked by my desk and said, “What, do you think that I just go around thinking of Mickey Mouse? And <em>children</em>?”Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-79154462977338128562007-07-24T09:58:00.000-05:002007-07-24T10:18:50.194-05:00Sometimes, Zoe Checks the ZoetrackerJust now from across the room Zoe bellowed, “I don’t understand why ‘Nice Things I Do for Zoe’ has 6 entries.” I told her it was because I’m not done assigning labels to all the Zoetracker posts yet, and that that small number is bound to go up. She guffawed. Then I could hear her opening some sort of pill bottle.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-61808144509331362942007-06-20T12:48:00.000-05:002007-06-20T12:51:16.828-05:00Thank You for the Lemon DropsToday Zoe brought me a bag of lemon drops because she “didn’t want them.” She also said that the bag was open because “the bag was on [her] counter top and Steve opened it and ate some.” Later she mentioned that Steve “bought her the lemon drops in the first place.” Look, if I wanted to hear about what Steve buys and eats, I’d phone Steve. Do you see me dialing Steve? No, you do not. I am a very busy woman. But rest assured that when I do phone Steve, I’m going to ask him why he thought it necessary to hijack the very the lemon drops he bought me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-13374479352699711062007-06-20T11:59:00.000-05:002007-06-20T12:53:04.508-05:00Well, It's About TimeZoe’s back. I was explaining to her the new labels in the sidebar – how if you want to read all the entries about “Hobo Sack,” all you have to do is click on “Hobo Sack” and all the Hobo Sack entries appear as if by darkest sorcery. “I have hobo sacks?” Zoe asked.<br /><br />Darkest sorcery.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-15725181424435559642007-06-13T15:31:00.000-05:002007-06-13T15:39:08.738-05:00Zoe's GoneZoe's still gone. On an unrelated note, I've been doing more casual swearing lately. If Zoe were here, I'd want to know what she thinks of this, seeing as she never swears unless she forgets to take her Centrum Silver or someone ridicules her enormous hot pink dangly earrings.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-34103340798936332802007-06-11T14:31:00.000-05:002007-06-11T14:34:27.163-05:00SighI don’t know where Zoe is. She’s not here. Anyway, some ants decided that they’d like to be senators, so they held some fundraisers. The strongest ant, Kro-Ton 4, raised the least money, so he embezzled funds from Best Buy where he worked in payroll. In the end, phorid flies infested the ant colony and laid eggs in all the ant’s heads, so nobody ever discovered Kro-Ton 4’s embezzlement and the election never happened. I can’t remember what happened instead. Probably something bad. <br /><br />*sigh*<br /><br />I sure wish Zoe were here.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-70656929039760294592007-05-30T14:40:00.000-05:002007-05-30T14:48:23.438-05:00La CroiksEarlier today, Zoe and I were discussing lunch and I mentioned that my lunch included a lime LaCroix water. I was careful to pronounce it “La Croiks” and she was all “La Crwaw?” and I was all, “NO, it’s LA CROIKS.” Then I told her to say la croiks but she refused. I was all, “Say LA CROIKS,” and she was like, “No, I won’t smell the jar and I won’t say <em>that</em>.” <br /><br />I should mention that Zoe looks especially serious today because she’s wearing glasses.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-52372047497981725802007-05-23T16:12:00.000-05:002007-05-23T16:33:21.878-05:00AfternoonZoe just walked by my desk with a bag of six dinner rolls and two pats of butter. “There’s angelfood cake in the breakroom,” she told me. “Okay,” I said. <br /><br />“Zoe’s eating a bag of buns,” Annette announced five minutes later.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-61871243135576881172007-05-23T15:48:00.000-05:002007-06-13T15:41:02.125-05:00You Have to Turn the Pencil as You SharpenToday Zoe told me that she knew the “trick” to electric pencil sharpeners – that you have to turn the pencil as you sharpen. You can’t just poke your pencil in and expect a decent result. “I know that trick, too,” I said, and Zoe laughed like it was no big deal. I know that she is secretly planning my demise because she can’t stand it when someone knows her tricks. She is sure to botch my demising, however, for I am undemisable. I will go on mising for decades, using her electric pencil sharpener trick as I laugh all the way to the bank, pencil shavings and superfluous benjamins fluttering in the breeze behind me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-1159987127932383882006-10-04T15:32:00.000-05:002007-05-23T16:06:45.877-05:00Aphids, or Ant CowsToday Zoe said that she bought black yarn in order to crochet an ant. She also reminded me of her plans to engage in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amigurumi">Amigurumi</a>, the art of crocheting small animals for the home - or van, if you live in your van. Zoe doesn’t live in a van right now, but who can see the future? I told Zoe that she ought to consider the merits of crocheting a giant ant farm, complete with aphids for milking. <br /><br />Later, I googled “ants milking aphids” for Zoe (I often do nice things for Zoe), and I read that wasps sometimes parasitize aphids, mummifying the aphids as they insert their larvae. I suggested that Zoe crochet an aphid mummy with a removeable wasp larva. She told me that I was being “creepy.” I told her that it would be “adorable.” <br /><br />Sometimes I think Zoe has deep psychological issues with the Sublime, i.e., My ideas are sublime and she takes issue with them.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8123818.post-1159901245826230532006-10-03T15:44:00.000-05:002007-05-23T16:08:16.075-05:00Ask Zoe About Her ShirtToday Zoe is wearing the t-shirt she found last week in a dumpster. <br /><br />Few things bring me more sad joy than the image of Zoe, haggard yet manic, barefoot, alone, and pawing through alley trash as the stray dogs circle and sniff her hobo sack.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2