three happy months, two plastic robots, and an unresolved childhood trauma in a pear tree

At this very second, as I type, I am billing an obscene amount of money for waiting on hold. This is not the kind of thing that you need to attend 7 years of school in order to do. Rather, it is the kind of thing that you get to do after 7 years of school. I get paid to sit in a comfy chair and listen to music. Stay in school kids.

In what is a sadly anomalous occurrence in this situation, the musical is actually rather delightful. I believe it is Lisvt.

For this year's office Christmas party, it was decided by, well, I don't actually know who in the office decides these sorts of things, but the decision somehow emerged from the ether that in lieu of Secret Santa presents, we would each purchase a toy for Toys for Tots, a noble cause if ever there was one. What a spectacular sentence that was, no?

So I was resolved to purchase nothing less than a Transformer. Voyager Class. And I volunteered to pick up a second Transformer on behalf of my supervising partner. I did this because I once witnessed him re-gift a paper sack full of place mats. And I've been yearning for a reason to buy a Transformer ever since the glorious days of summer wherein my eyes first feasted upon the bastion of cinematic brilliance that is Transformers. And here I am with a reason to buy two of them. Voyager Class. Not the cheap stuff.

I brought them up to the office for the Christmas party, even though the drop-off box is in the lobby. I never really understood why the unseen powers and principalities of the office Christmas party dictated that we needed to bring the toys upstairs for a sort of herding of them. As though it would be great to pile them on the conference room table and gather everyone together for a communal toy-beholding. Nevertheless, I brought them up.

And then I forgot to take them toys back down to that there drop-off box.

Yesterday I noticed that the drop-off box is gone. I am stuck with two Transformers. Voyager Class. So I spent the entire day trying to act like this was not something that I was happy about.

I can no longer drop off these Voyager Class Transformers! I am an adult, and I spent forty of my hard-earned adult dollars on these child playthings - and now they are irreparably in my possession. What will I do with them? It's not like I can take them home and open them up and play with them and shoot their spring-load missile launchers at the dog and carefully arrange them in battle stances! I can't do that at all!

So I devoted a few billable hours to that internal conflict before I finally acquiesced and realized that I was nothing less than thrilled that I got to play with my Transformers instead of some other impoverished child. And since I'm sure you're dying to know: Thundercracker and Megatron.

I actually had Thundercracker when I was a wee lad. When it comes to the Decepticon Jets, most people are inclined towards Starscream. Starsceam is a punk. Thundercracker gets the job done while Starscream is off whining about whatever it is he's whining about today.

I did not ever have Megatron. And there is a story to that sad fact. I don't want to talk about it. But now I do have Megatron. Don't worry Mom, this one doesn't turn into a gun, so maybe you could not take it back maybe?

Sorry, I said wasn't going to talk about it. Voyager class.