As you might know from reading this blog, my office building shut down and the three employees left in Minneapolis started working from home. That includes me, thank God. I have now worked from home for a full week, or as some say, been living the dream.

Let me tell you, cubicle-bound lackeys, if you’re wildly envious, you should be. It’s awesome!

At home, I can now do anything I want. If I want to get up and do that laundry that’s piled up in my bedroom closet, I can. I haven’t availed myself of that particular opportunity just yet, . . .

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Given Anirban’s prompting, I’ve decided to decide on and announce the winners of the caption contest winners so far. If you feel that you have a caption that can beat the rest, comment!

Contest #1

Winner: “Minnesota farmers continue to deny the use of bovine growth hormones.” (Kris)

Contest #2

Winner: “Davy Crocket’s recurring nightmare.” (Steven Koski)

Contest #3

Winner: “Can you forward me that?” (dbay – though unintentional)

Contest . . .

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Last night, when you were tossing and turning in bed, trying to sleep, I bet you were thinking: “What would Senator John McCain bring with him if stranded on a desert island?”

The answer? “Books.” You’re getting those 40 winks tonight!

Check out these “Desert Island Necessities” from PoliticalWire.com—presidential candidates’ answers to a question from the Associated Press: “what would you most like to have if you were stranded on a desert island?”

Some candidates went right for the loopholes, naturally: Gov. Bill Richardson answered, “a Blackberry and a Davidoff cigar.”

Good thinking, . . .

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Some of you might actually remember me like this, so this could be hard, but you should try it regardless.

Here, I’ll start:

What was my hair’s zipcode in 1999?

At lunch today, my officemates and I huddled around the speakerphone on the back table for a “town hall” meeting teleconference call. Colleagues called in from all over, set their office and cubicle phones to speaker, and proceeded to pay no attention whatsoever.

These folks have got some good microphone pick-ups on their telephones. We heard honking, sirens, closing doors, throat-clearings and a lilting little Irish jig on lute and guitar. This is true. “Break out the Guiness,” one coworker said. If only.

At least one person held a handset up to their head. We know, because he or she . . .

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