Shred of Identity
Paper shredders are heavy. I discovered this tonight when, after having been convinced of their effectiveness against identity theft this week by a friend of mine (an idea which really didn't take all that much convincing, because I've thought about getting one anyway, for the really high profile things like old checks and stuff), I stopped by London Drugs (since Staples closes early on weekends) and bought one.
Thing is, Staples is practically downstairs from me. London Drugs is three blocks away. That's a long way to carry a 10kg paper shredder. I guess it's all the blades and motors in there that make it heavy. Heavy nonetheless.
Of course, when I got back, I had to try it out. I went ahead and got a more heavy duty one that can handle credit cards and staples (because I knew I'd accidentally let a few staples slip through on the cheaper one, and then I'd be buying two cheap shredders rather than one, and that just gets silly). It will even shred CDs. Always seemed to me that CDs are fragile enough that if you wanted to destroy one, you could just break it or cut it up or something, but I'm sure the same could be said for credit cards, right?
* * *
Speaking of said friend, I had another sex dream today, which makes this a marathon week of them.
I should probably clarify, as the connection is not exactly what you'd probably assume at first blush.
About a week ago we were laughing about stories of particularly bad sex dreams, which, like it or not, will probably plague everyone at least once in his or her life. Friends, coworkers, even family members are not too much for the insidious sex dream. Anyway, the highlight of the conversation was a story about one of her coworkers who had had a sex dream about a woman in the office, but didn't remember it. No memory, that is, until she walked up to say hi to him, and the dream came suddenly rushing back into his conscious mind, lurid detail and all. The ensuing reaction could only be described as cognitive meltdown.
I swore that such a thing had never happened to me. There are dreams I forget, but a sex dream would never slip my mind.
I'm old enough to know better than to make claims like that.
Suffice it to say when a particular female at work walked up to me earlier this week, and the realization hit me, I wanted to go run away as fast as I could, like a little kid, and giggle in the bathroom or something. Not fun. Amusing, yes. Fun, not so much.
Thing is, Staples is practically downstairs from me. London Drugs is three blocks away. That's a long way to carry a 10kg paper shredder. I guess it's all the blades and motors in there that make it heavy. Heavy nonetheless.
Of course, when I got back, I had to try it out. I went ahead and got a more heavy duty one that can handle credit cards and staples (because I knew I'd accidentally let a few staples slip through on the cheaper one, and then I'd be buying two cheap shredders rather than one, and that just gets silly). It will even shred CDs. Always seemed to me that CDs are fragile enough that if you wanted to destroy one, you could just break it or cut it up or something, but I'm sure the same could be said for credit cards, right?
* * *
Speaking of said friend, I had another sex dream today, which makes this a marathon week of them.
I should probably clarify, as the connection is not exactly what you'd probably assume at first blush.
About a week ago we were laughing about stories of particularly bad sex dreams, which, like it or not, will probably plague everyone at least once in his or her life. Friends, coworkers, even family members are not too much for the insidious sex dream. Anyway, the highlight of the conversation was a story about one of her coworkers who had had a sex dream about a woman in the office, but didn't remember it. No memory, that is, until she walked up to say hi to him, and the dream came suddenly rushing back into his conscious mind, lurid detail and all. The ensuing reaction could only be described as cognitive meltdown.
I swore that such a thing had never happened to me. There are dreams I forget, but a sex dream would never slip my mind.
I'm old enough to know better than to make claims like that.
Suffice it to say when a particular female at work walked up to me earlier this week, and the realization hit me, I wanted to go run away as fast as I could, like a little kid, and giggle in the bathroom or something. Not fun. Amusing, yes. Fun, not so much.