TERROR ALERT

And no, I'm not talking about homeland security.

Fairly early in my workday yesterday, while talking to Kevin on gChat, I noticed a faint rumbling through the floorboards of my office. As a native Californian, my first instinct was, of course, TERROR. I decided not to make an immediate dash for cover, though, because my mid-western co-worker was still calmly typing emails. I assumed this rumbling was probably just the result of a particularly full UPS truck in our driveway and attempted to suppress the TERROR. Soon, however, it became apparent that we were in the face of a full-on, honest-to-god earthquake (a.k.a TERROR event).

My co-worker, boss, and I all gathered in doorways to wait out the shaking. We all remembered the thrills of the Northridge quake--which had done $75,000 of damage to the structure we were currently standing in--and so weren't too excited about the process. As the TERROR began to subside, however, I realized that I had left my gChat window open on my computer--hardly professional--and that one of the last things Kevin had typed to me revolved around bestiality--Turkey sex, to be precise. At this point I was convinced this quake was divine retribution for my sins, since I'm sure that even joking about bestiality sends you right to hell.

Despite the protest of pretty much everyone else, I managed to reach my computer and get the window minimized. They all thought I was just eager to return to my work.

Later in the work-day as I was talking to Kevin (I don't learn, do I?), he suggested we put publish a book, THIS WEEK, so we can capitalize on the TERROR that was all over the news. I told him we would need good photos of the destruction, carnage, and devastation of this killer 5.4 earthquake. Though we didn't have any pictures off-hand, Kevin suggested we could just find some kids, tell them Miley Cyrus died, and snap away. Brilliant!