Eating at Work

Yesterday I was eating lunch at my desk. I licked gravy off a plastic knife and cut my lip. Today, I was eating breakfast at my desk and got Tabasco sauce in my eyes. Now I know why we are not supposed to eat at our desks at work.

How could I possibly turn this little anecdote into a full blog entry? Well, it was either write about this or write about how I left the house unlocked last night so Clayton could come over and climb into bed with me, and I'm sure nobody wants to hear about that.

Maybe I'll go out for lunch today.

Hypothetical Question

Do you ever sit down to update your blog and draw a blank as to what you can safely write about? For example, let's say you are in a new relationship with someone, and you really like them, and they say they don't read your blog, but you can't be sure, so you don't want to mess things up by revealing too much. Or, maybe they love to read about themselves, and if you don't say enough about them, they will be hurt. Or maybe you will sit down and realize that your conversations lately haven't been witty enough to write about. For example, maybe the funniest thing you said yesterday was something about a "herd of ferrets" and nobody would understand the joke unless they were sitting on that park bench with you yesterday smoking a cigarette and talking about living on spongecake.

Or maybe you are ashamed to blog because you promised your Best Friend Forever (BFF) that you would send them a gift, but you were drunk when you promised, and you haven't mailed the package yet, but you really do have a present for them, it's just that you're too lazy and selfish to go to the post office and mail it. Or maybe you were drunk dialed by a sexy man with a deep voice, and you feel guilty for not calling him back, so you don't blog because you don't want to draw attention to yourself. And then there is your dear friend who called to let you know how much they love you during a particularly hard time, and you never returned the call, which is completely inexcusable since you certainly have no time accepting gifts like homemade scarves and delicious nuts from them but can't be bothered to call them back just to say hi.

Sometimes you may not blog because you have to work on the budget for your department, and you're overwhelmed by numbers anyway because you couldn't pay attention during math class in school because you kept thinking about The Exorcist and the vomit scene instead of learning how to do simple division.

Or maybe you just don't have anything funny to say. Or maybe you keep thinking about sex and about your boyfriend's 19-inch rock hard calves. Does that ever happen to you?

The Show Off Chef

I love my housemate and best friend very much. He is a wonderful cook. Want to hear more about it? Listen...

I'm Going to Live!!

The doctor did not remove my feet yesterday. As I was leaving the office I told her I felt like a big baby for coming to see her for something so minor. I do not have diabetes. I have athlete's foot. I haven't seen a doctor in two years, and when I do finally go, it's for athlete's foot. What a dork.

Anyway, now that I know I am probably not dying, I'm going to go ahead and continue planning my future. Of course, I am not really ready to make any long term plans.

Hot Toddy's Weekend Goals

1. Make Auburn Pisces laugh so hard she shoots Snapple out of her nose. (Done)
2. Drink vodka in the Vortex.
3. Get laid.
4. Get a haircut.
5. Play canasta
6. Get laid again.
7. Drink wine.
8. Get laid again.
9. Work out.
10. Get together with friends for an informal play reading.
11. Drink Maker's Mark.
12. Establish world peace.

Here's hoping you attain all of your goals this weekend too!

You Are the Boss of Me

Last night I asked the guy I'm seeing if he would still date me if I didn't have feet. He said he might. I think it is important to clear up those issues early on in the relationship, don't you?

After he half-heartedly agreed to dating a potentially footless Toddy, he gave me some medicine for my foot pain and tried to get me to stop worrying so much about my appointment with the podiatrist today. I'm not sure why I'm so nervous. Maybe it is because I almost never go to the doctor.

I know I will be okay, but some of the comments I received yesterday were kind of scary. But some of the comments made me laugh. What really cracked me up was the people who said I should contact my health care provider. If you knew where I worked, you'd laugh too.

Anyway, I can't believe I have blogged about my feet two days in a row. And the day before that I blogged about car wrecks and nuns. What is going on here? I have officially run out of material. I apologize, dear readers, but I may have to solicit your help.

What the hell should I write about!?

I Took Two Aspirin, But I Can't Call You In The Morning

When I first discovered I had Attention Deficit Disorder, I decided I'd better do something about it, so I started researching all sorts of options for treatment.

My first thought was that I needed to go to a concentration camp, but then I learned that it's not what it sounds like. I am so thankful I didn't sign up. After I abandoned that idea, I figured I would just take medication to help me concentrate. But I can't remember the name of my doctor, and I can't find his number.

I'm serious. I have no memory of my doctor. I saw him two years ago when I bruised my ribs wrestling with this guy at a party, which I remember quite clearly, of course. Every detail. Every muscle and tight hold, thank you very much. Anyway, I know my doctor's name is something like "Tom Sawyer". He definitely shares a name with one of Mark Twain's characters. I looked up Huckleberry Finn in the Portland phone book, and there was no listing, so I know that's not it. Then I found a Becky Thatcher, but I know for sure my doctor had a penis. (I figured it was only fair that I grab him back.)

So now I am stuck without a doctor and don't know what to do. There is something wrong with my feet, and I have no idea who I need to see about my condition. At first I thought I had athlete's foot, but I am starting to think it is a little more serious. My feet hurt a lot, and they burn when I am trying to fall asleep at night. The skin on my feet looks like it is disintegrating in places. (I'm sure you don't want to hear about it, but I want to talk about it so you are out of luck.) Do I have a flesh-eating virus? The rest of my skin is fine. Only my foot skin is going away.

Maybe I am just being paranoid. But, I once saw this documentary in school, and they showed all these horrible medical conditions experienced by people in Africa. I am not sure what the class was. I am pretty sure it wasn't typing class. Anyway, there was a man with elephantitis, and some woman with an awful disease caused by walking barefoot in the mud. Worms that lived in the mud went into her foot and just started eating her or something. I don't remember walking in the mud, lately, so I am hoping I don't have what she had.

But I am tired of my feet hurting, and I worry that if I don't go to a doctor soon I won't have any skin left on my feet. Just bones. And, although it might be fun to pull of my shoes at parties and show off my skeleton feet, I doubt anybody would want to sleep with me ever again. If people hate sleeping with someone who has cold feet, can you imagine how undesirable they would find someone with skeleton feet?

I don't like sharing this ugly side of myself, but I don't know what else to do. I can't remember my doctor's name, so I am hoping he will read this and get in touch with me.

What were we talking about?

Hot Toddy's Catholic Post

My housemate, The Math Whiz, is one of the funniest people I know. His delivery is so dry. We were telling car crash stories this morning, and he told me that he once got into a collision with a a nun. I asked if it was her fault, and The Math Whiz said it was. Then he told me the police officer went up to her and said, "I wouldn't make a habit of this." The officer didn't really say that, but I loved The Math Whiz for coming up with that. The nun was apparently running a red light, so TMW now refers to her as "The Flying Nun".

I couldn't come up with anything funnier than TMW did. But I did suggest that maybe the police officer said to the nun, "If you think you're not getting a ticket for this, you better say your prayers, sister." Ba-dum-bum.

And continuing my Catholic theme for today, I am going to bet that Vatican City's new leader will be named Pope something. They seem to favor that name. If I ever had a child, I would name him (or her) "Pope" just to increase their chances of someday being the Catholic church leader.

Thank you. I'll be here all night.

Hot Toddy's Meme

Scott-o-Rama and I are on the same page today. Or, as my former boss used to say, "we are on the same plate."

In my opinion, Scott is a meme expert, so it wasn't all that surprising to me when I went to his blog and found he wrote about this topic only a couple days ago. There are probably better definitions for a meme, but my personal definition of a meme is, "read my blog entry and just copy what I write into your own blog." But the trick to a meme is that you have to change the answers, which makes it more than just copying. You have to personalize your meme.

If you would like to fan the flames of my already out of control ego, just copy this meme into your blog today. Be sure to credit me and link to me and talk about how great I am or I will fall apart. I do that sometimes. Anyway, I hope I write the best meme ever. I can't wait to see your answers!

Hot Toddy's Meme

Which song reminds you of when you worked in a drugstore in high school?
"Oh Sherry" by Journey

What is your saddest memory of being in a cult?
I hated "Breaking Sessions", in which the leaders of the cult would sit with you in a circle and try to make you break down crying about your sinfulness. I usually buckled after only two or three people voiced their criticism of my wicked heart.

What was your most embarrassing moment that happened when lube fell out of your coat pocket?
In my car this morning, when I had to explain to my housemates why I had a bottle of lube in my car. It had fallen out of my coat pocket. I had purchased the lube at a Pure Rome Ants party, but it was backordered, so I picked it up from Juju a couple days ago and just never brought it into the house.

When you were kids, why did you call your little sister "Margarita" instead of her real name?
I was trying to convince her she was adopted and that she was really a little Argentine girl left on our doorstep, even though she was a blue-eyed blonde girl who looked just like the rest of us.

What was the strangest thing you ever ate in Africa?
Crocodile meat

Do you ever think about that time you slept with your friend, the gymnast, in high school, and you were both drunk and messed around together?
Every day

Do you ever wish you had taken things further?
Every second of every day

When was the last time you came home drunk and watched a taped episode of "American Idol" and then decided to watch it backwards too so that the people who performed later got a chance to go first?
Monday night

Were you surprised when the judges were just as harsh regardless of the performance order?
Yes. Stunned.

Please think about your answers carefully. I can't wait to hear your lube and cult and gymnast stories!

Hot Toddy's New Boss

Today I will meet my new boss. It will be important for me to quickly get him wrapped around my little finger so that I can continue my fun carefree lifestyle. If the poor man has any delusions that he is going to pound some kind of work ethic into me, he has another think coming.

In fact, I'm just going to direct him to my blog and outline my expectations here.

Welcome aboard, Eugene!

You are in for the ride of your life. Working with Hot Toddy is fun and exciting, as long as you follow a few simple guidelines.

Although it is none of your business, Hot Toddy's work schedule is as follows: Hot Toddy usually shows up at the office around 9 a.m. (unless there was a good song on the radio and he sits in his car to listen) and he immediately leaves his desk after booting up the computer. Around 9:30, he will return with coffee and breakfast.

Next on his agenda is catching up on e-mail and blogging. 10:00 a.m. is break time, so you'll find Toddy with Auburn Pisces and Ms. Karma over at Kobos Coffee.

Around 10:30, Hot Toddy will wake up and begin to undertake actual work. He will begin to accomplish things as if by magic and will outwork anyone on your staff due to his abilities to charm the pants off vendors and internal customers. By the way, Toddy hates using words like "internal customers" because he knows that is a euphemism for "the idiots I work with", but he will pretend to be on board with the whole corporate farce.

Under no circumstances should you ever attempt to monitor Toddy's work. He is independent and has no need for you as a supervisor other than to approve his vacation requests, which you will basically approve without discussion. Beyond that, just find something to do with your time and leave Toddy alone. He is quite capable of doing his job without your meddling in his affairs.

Please be aware that once or twice or three times a week, Toddy will need to leave early for doctor or dentist appointments. He is a health fanatic and is obsessive about his dental hygiene. He must be heavily medicated by Dr. CC Slaughter every day in order to function. Do not attempt to interfere with Toddy's treatments.

If you follow the rules, you and Toddy will get along fine, Eugene. You're gonna love him.

Stuck

Toddy, just write something. Anything. Stop worrying about who reads it or what they say behind your back. Stop fretting about the reactions of others. Quit avoiding this blog and worrying that you will upset someone. Because you're going to upset them whether you try to or not.....

Okay, I'm back. I got my shirt caught in the rumor mill a few days ago and found myself dangling several hundred feet in the air contemplating my escape. Unfortunately, I've discovered how vicious people can be. Someone shared information with me about things that were being said behind my back, so I needed some quiet time to regroup. I held a committee meeting in my head with all the voices, and I think I've reintegrated my multiple personalities now.

I doubt there is anyone in the world who hasn't experienced the act of betrayal. But that doesn't make dealing with it any easier. A few people I thought were my friends, really aren't. It would still hurt if just one "friend" secretly disliked me. But I learned that there is actually a secret coven of Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven haters. I can move past it, and I will. Over the past several months, I've started some new e-mail correspondences with people I respect, and now I will have more time to cultivate those friendships instead of wasting time on false people.

Readers of HTTO have expressed various opinions regarding my need to write about my private life. Some believe I should keep revealing my thoughts without censoring. Others say I need to keep things to myself. Some are too foolish to realize that there are many things I keep to myself, and that when you read a blog entry you are reading a portion of the whole story.

So, here is a portion of a story about a new person in my life. I am experiencing a new friendship that frightens me. I met a man who seems to want to give me everything I've ever asked for. I feel spoiled when I spend time with him. I am overwhelmed by affection and am treated like a prince. I feel as if I could snap my fingers and receive anything my heart desires.

This weekend, I pushed him away. I didn't call him. I avoided anyplace where I might run into him. And then, last night, there he was. The look in his eyes wasn't what I expected. I anticipated bitterness. Anger. Resentment. All the things I've been experiencing from the secret coven of haters. Instead, he asked me if I felt better after having time to myself. He said that he hoped I was back to my old self. He put his arms around me and drew me close, and I felt safe. I felt nothing but warmth. And the best part is that a little part of my heart melted, and I began to trust this man.

Lately, I've started saying, "We'll see..." whenever I encounter new friendships. Instead of saying, "I hope this works out," I choose to keep things tentative. That's new for me. I know there are those who say I can't change, but I think I can. I have changed many times before. This blog is a record of my growth and change.

Hot Toddy Lovers & Hot Toddy Haters: Sometimes I will let you down with my words. Sometimes you'll disagree wholeheartedly with what I have to say. You'll read a joke about how much Maker's Mark I drink, and you'll decide I'm an alcoholic. I will write about my disappointment in love, and you will say that I am writing to hurt or attack the person who disappointed me. Think what you will. I'm trying to be the best person I can be. Like everyone, I fail sometimes, but nobody can say I'm not trying.

What is Important...

Loyalty. Trust. Honesty. Kindness.

Love.

Being Famous Author Rob Byrnes

Last night I rehearsed the play for a staged reading I'm involved with on Monday at Artists Repertory Theatre. I haven't acted in anything since last summer when I did all my naked shows. ART is a great theater to be involved with, and I'm hoping this reading may give me some visibility so I can increase my chances of doing a mainstage show at ART someday.

The role I'm reading is that of a playwright, a role with which I'm somewhat familiar. But this playwright is not a corn-fed Missouri boy like me. He's a New Yorker. So, in my reading of this character, I need to convey that rapid, nervous, neurotic, insane, "whack" behavior exhibited by all New Yorkers. Actually, I'm kidding. I know some pretty laid back New Yorkers, but the director wants me to be a little more frenetic. So, I've decided to use Famous Author Rob Byrnes as inspiration. Now, I've only spent a few hours with FARB, but I think he has the qualities I'm seeking to imitate. FARB is a mover and a shaker. He is the type of man who will never miss his train or lose his bags. I mean, I don't know that for sure, but I imagine that FARB, when sober, is quite capable of catching trains and keeping track of his possessions. Not that I ever saw him sober.

It felt good to be back in the theater last night. I was Norma Desmond roaming the rehearsal halls singing, "I don't know why I'm frightened. I know my way around here...", and, yes, it truly was "as if we never said goodbye". Not that I have been on an extended leave of absence from the stage, but it seems very strange to perform back to back shows and then, suddenly, find oneself on hiatus for almost eight months.

Finally, I'm doing something other than blogging, drinking or dating. At last, I will have something to talk about at parties other than Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven, Maker's Mark and boys. I'm sure my friends are tired of hearing about all three of those subjects. Not that I plan to go on curbing any of those activities anytime soon.

If You Don't Know Me By Now...

I stir up a lot of controversy lately. It's weird. I've always been a peacemaker. I try to get along with everybody and genuinely love people. The bartenders at CC Slaughters have started calling me "Jesus" because I will talk to anybody, even if they are a freak. Especially if they are a freak. I hate to see lonely people at the bar. I say hello to people on the elevator at my office. I don't always know them, but I figure that since we work at the same place we ought to at least say hi. The other day I called the county courthouse to inquire about proper procedures for disputing a parking ticket. Ms. Karma overheard the call and said, "You were awfully nice to them considering they are screwing you over." I just responded that the person who answered my call had nothing to do with the person who wrote my ticket, so I didn't see the point of being angry with them.

YET...

No matter what I write lately, it seems to be pissing people off. Okay, like, three people. But I hate pissing off three people. My goal before I die is to have every single person in the entire world like me. I want to be the first man in the history of the world to have no enemies. I'll bet I can do it. As long as I write things like this:

Today was a great day. For me, I mean. Not for everybody. I mean, I know there are some people in the world who have problems, and I don't mean to seem apathetic about what they are going through. But for me, personally, it was a good day. I heard from a couple friends via e-mail and had lunch with another great friend.

I know I didn't call the friends who e-mailed me "great friends" but it doesn't mean that they are less of a friend than the one I had lunch with. I like everybody the exact same amount.

If you didn't have lunch with me today or hear from me today, it doesn't mean that my day wouldn't have been even better if you had been part of it. Quite the opposite!! I would have loved to spend time with you, but it just so happened that I spent time with a different friend.

Oh, and if you are the different friend I actually did spend time with, I'm not trying to say that I wish I could have spent time with the other friend whose feelings are hurt because I spent time with you.

Anyway, I was really excited to be asked out on a date recently. I know that I may be coming off as incredibly narcissistic right now for writing about having a date. It might make me sound like I think I'm so awesome or that I'm bragging about how everybody thinks I'm hot and wants to sleep with me. But I really just like going out on dates. Every date I ever go on is perfect, and every guy I have ever dated is perfect. I love everyone and everything, unless you hate them, in which case I agree with you.

I haven't had much time to read blogs (I did read yours, of course) lately because my job is so busy. Sorry to talk about myself so much. I am sure your job is busy too, and I am sorry it is so busy for you. And it is my fault. I will try harder to support you.

The blogs I have read are all funny and touching and controversial and thought-provoking, and, yes, I like your blog the best. It is way better than mine, and I am sorry I act like I think my writing is so great, because it is so obviously just my desperate attempt to get attention any way I can. In real life, nobody will ever talk to me so I have created this virtual world, and I pretend it is real.

I had the craziest experience in the grocery store yesterday, but it involved a lady buying tomatoes and two cashiers. Since I did not obtain their permission to write about what happened, I'm going to have to let it go. But it was funny, and nobody was harmed, and nothing racist was said or implied, and no animals were harmed during the incident with the tomato lady and the cashiers. But it sure was funny.

Anyway. I guess I can safely tell you about things that happened when I was alone, right? As long as it doesn't involve anybody else, nobody can be upset with me.

This morning I put on my shoes while I sat on my bed. Then I got up and drank coffee (sorry, Mormons!) and had a protein shake. Yes, yes, I know that there are people starving all over the world, and I am a selfish American protein shake drinker. But don't worry, I realized my selfishness and threw up the shake right away. And then cleaned up the mess myself using environmentally friendly cleaning products.

Thank you for taking the time to read today, and I'm sorry if this entry was too long or too short. Or if it was too medium length. Anyway, if I have upset you today, I am sure that you are right and I'm wrong and that if I would just let you express your opinion more through my writing, everything would be fine. So, if you are mad, please comment for all to see. Although there is an e-mail link at the bottom of this blog, (appropriately located under the 'Dear Hot Toddy, You Suck' picture), if you are upset with me, I think you should comment about it. That way everyone will know that I am a jerk and you are an innocent victim of my unwarranted malicious hatred towards you.

Proud to be your whipping boy,
Hot Toddy

To Tell the Truth...

I think it is interesting that I wrote this entire post about my need to express myself, and when I tried to publish it, Blogger crashed and lost the whole thing. You can't stop me, though, as I will discuss in this post.

Some people hate this blog, which is sort of like hating puppies and kittens, but they still hate it and will tell me so. Mostly, they'll do so anonymously. They will conduct the literary equivalent of flipping me off in my comments. I think they are probably itching for a good old fashioned drive-by shooting and just can't find the time or the firearms. So they just shoot at me in my comments and keep driving.

How do I deal with it? Do I fall apart? Hardly. Usually, I just e-mail Famous Author Rob Byrnes, and we make fun of the commenter. Or my loyal friends will jump in and defend me (usually making me laugh at their cleverness in the process). Negative comments really don't bother me, because I know most of these comments are a cry for attention from people trying to stir the pot. I mean, if you really hated reading a blog, why wouldn't you just move on? Why waste time telling the blogger that you hate them and think their blog sucks?

I have to admit, though, the other day I received an e-mail from someone I once knew. He basically called me out for exposing too much. He was especially upset that I wrote about a boy that I liked, who made out with someone else at the bar one night when we were out at CC Slaughters. I had, at the very least, a sexual relationship with this guy. It turns out I was wrong that we could possibly mean more to each other, but that was something I didn't write about. So I wrote about how I still wanted to be friends with this guy, but that we would be nothing more than that. Without knowing anything that occurred between this guy and me, other than what he read in this blog, the person who e-mailed me jumped to this guy's defense. He said that, unless I stopped writing about boys I like, anybody in Portland will think twice before dating me.

I tried to open up a dialogue about it with my critic. I tried to remind him of all the nice things I had written about him. I tried to get him to see how shallow it would be for me to only write about sunshine and light, when we all know that's not the whole truth. But he didn't respond. I wrote him twice, but heard nothing back. Another drive-by shooting, but this time it came from someone who once meant a lot to me.

Well, I thought about his words for about a week. I came to the conclusion that, if a man can't handle dating someone who is open and honest, he's not the man for me. If I am only allowed to write about the wonderful side of dating him and can't be real, I will just have to pass. Even if I don't blog about my life experiences, including, but not limited to, romantic relationships, I must have an outlet for expression. I'll write a play about it, or I'll sing a song to express my feelings. If you are horribly unlucky, I will write you a love poem. Heaven help you if that happens.

The point is, I can't stop telling my truth now. It's like me and my ex, CT, used to say. "The steamroller of truth can't be stopped." It is like an avalanche of truth that starts with a small snowball rolling down a hill, picking up speed, and becoming devastatingly enormous. Well, at least that is how a cartoon avalanche looks. I've never been in a real one. Or, if I have, I can't remember.

Anyway (focus, Toddy, focus!!) I came exploding out of the closet of repression and lies eight years ago. Tired of lying and pretending to be someone I'm not, I decided to get on board the Silence=Death train, and I'm not ever getting off. And e-mails like this one I received from a reader I'll call Kent Almighty, encourage me to keep telling the truth,

"You know, I did notice in the more recent HTTO archives, that there were bits of censoring going on, and even caught some hints of advice from your friends to keep it down. There are a lot of people who just don't want to hear about personal feelings and of what speaks to the heart, other than something that's been homogenized for safe human consumption. It's difficult and scary to expose and talk of one's personal feelings…but I know that that is what makes the absolute difference in life…

I'm convinced that that's the secret to a fulfilled and happy life -- to share about oneself and innermost being and then to have someone else really listen and receive it, to hug it and cherish it and allow it inside…I for one, have benefited greatly from your words…and I would be saddened if you changed the way you are just for other people's comfort level."

Thanks, Kent Almighty. I won't change. I promise.

I have a good friend in Portland who makes fun of Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. He mocks me and says he never reads the blog. I love this guy, and I know he has better things to do with his time than read my blog. Right now he is going through a very rough time. He called me yesterday and left a message. "Toddy, call me. I need to tell you something." Worried that he might need me to rush over with a bottle of Maker's Mark and a lot of stupid jokes, I called him back. I was surprised and encouraged as he told me his truth, "Toddy, I have started reading your blog. It means so much to me. Frankly, it is one of the only things that keeps me going lately."

That's all the encouragement I need to keep going. I don't care if I get a hundred negative comments a day and scathing e-mails from people all over the world. My friend was moved by what I wrote, and it makes him want to keep going. Which makes me want to keep going. And that, my friends, is just one of the countless benefits of being honest. I'm not changing a thing.

Ready, Willing and Abel

Sometimes, while playing canasta, I will try to distract my opponent. But Auburn Pisces is exaggerating greatly in her post about my Vortex performance last weekend.

True, I was belting out a tribute to music of The Sixties. My medley was an American Idol-worthy performance. True, I didn't stop, no matter how many times she warned me. But I completely disagree with her claim that I was jealous. I had the best cards in my hand. If The Math Whiz hadn't interrupted our game with his burning yearning need for CC Slaughters, I would have won.

If you go read her blog, you'll see she is clearly making the whole thing up. As if I would complain about a glass of Maker's Mark. Enough about that.

I am writing this during a conference call at work. As different people speak, I pull up their picture on the organizational chart so I can see what they look like. Right now I am fighting the urge to send an instant message to Abel saying, "You are so hot." That would be highly inappropriate. But as I listen to him speak, I am falling for him. I think we would be so good together.

During the introduction segment of the meeting, we were all asked to name the first album we bought with our own money. (I know. Corporate trickery in an attempt to make us think we are having fun at work. It doesn't work on me, don't worry.) Well, Abel's first album was WHAM! and mine was the soundtrack to Xanadu. If that is not a match made in heaven, I don't know what is.