L.I.C.E and M.I.C.E

I think that everyone should be forced to take Continuing Education Credits and need to be re certified on basic skills learned in kindergarten at least once every five years. In particular, everyone should be forced to take a Live Interactive Courtesy Evaluation (LICE) and a Minimum Interaction Communication Evaluation (MICE) with a passing grade in order to be able to talk or otherwise interact with other living creatures including common pets and domestic livestock.

Let me explain how I came to this conclusion. This afternoon, I was attempting to take a nap on a languid early summer day in Madison. Taylour's apartment looks out over Lake Mendota. The vista combined with 45 minutes of canoing earlier in the afternoon and a tasty lunch had given me the -itis (for more information on the -itis please see Aaron McGruder's Boondocks). I had settled down on the Green Pleather Couch (aka my bed away from home when I visit the office in Madison) only to be awakened by the irate slamming of the microwave door, the bathroom door, several cabinets, and a plethora of pots and pans. Thus returned Andy.

Andy is Taylour's special needs roommate. In general, he is a likable guy. He is fairly quiet, and he is prone to passive aggressive fits of preschool playground behavior. I rose from my nap, and tip-toed into the kitchen. I knew that Andy had often gone nuclear on Taylour over a stray dish left in the sink. So, I ran water in my rice pot and into the wok and jumped in the shower with the intention of cleaning the dishes after I emerged. As I was toweling off, I was again aurally assaulted by another round of slamming and banging dishes and pots and pans followed by the crash of the kitchen door being flung open and slammed shut.

I emerged from the bathroom, this time, ready to cut a bitch in the throat. I looked in the kitchen to find the wok was missing. Then, a moment later, Taylour entered. I was hoping that she had temporarily gone crazy and had been the one slamming things around. Alas, it was too much for which to hope.

“Andy is mad because you put soap in his wok,” she said shrugging and looking apologetic for his asinine behavior.

“Andy needs to grow the hell up and stop slamming shit around like he was on the playground and the girls wouldn't let him play jump rope with them,” I said.

Turns out, to compound the situation, Andy was drunk. Drunk at 5pm on a Monday....GO ANDY GO (I am a little bit jealous). But, drunk or no, I expect anyone over the age of say 18 that has a full time job and a college degree to be able to knock on the bathroom door and say, “hey...you shouldn't put soap in the wok, let me show you how to clean it, so it doesn't lose the seasoning.”

Instead, I got the hipster femme biznatch that decided to do a scene from Stomp in the kitchen. Newsflash Andy, I don't read Morse code. But I sure do know lots of interesting symbols and gestures of my own that I would be happy to show you next time you throw a tantrum in the kitchen.

To quote Jenelope from that classic piece of cinema, Bring It On, “You been touched by an angel, girl.”

Anyone that has lived with me, that I have dated, or that is related to me knows that waking me from a nap is dangerous and that waking me from a nap for some bullshit has a direct mathematical relationship to the waker's continued good health. Andy is truly blessed that my love of Taylour and her continued ability to cover rent outweighed my desire to take a cheese slicer and peel Andy's face into thin slivers and feed them to Taylour's dog Cooper.