Two interesting mind-scabs.

Itchy mind-scab 1: Festering.

There's this one guy at the office, who I can only describe as a passionate listener, nay, a listening fetishist.

I have mental images of this guy wanting to step up and crawl inside your mouth, peering inside to see what your brain has to reveal. When you talk to him, he has this little smirk on his face, likes hes totally dependent on your every word, like a bloodthirsty paparazzi type journalist finding a scoop on the hottest celeb, well almost.

I can just picture his tail wagging and him tilting his head everytime you say: Spot wants to catch the ball! Oh well, when he talks, the effect is lost (as they say). Its all conspiracy this, and screw the corporation that. Still, an interesting oke.

Mind-scab 2: Almost healed.

Recently, I had the unfortunate experience in using UPS. A package was to be delivered to my door at the hotel, but instead I got a little postcard which said something like: "We were unable to deliver to your address because the address seemed incorrect.". Now, how the hell did the postcard get delivered, to the correct address, but the package didn't!? Anyway, the instructions on the postcard said I should stop by some regional distribution centre and pickup the package myself! What Cheek.

Afterwards, in my new found grief for UPS, I started stalking the brown trucks, imagining interesting ways to render them useless, or abduct the drivers and subject them to something as evil as working for edocs. On the side of these butt-ugly trucks is a UPS national call centre number: 1-800-PICK-UPS. I just chuckled - Idjits.