Taking It Personally

Lance Armstrong, a fellow Austinite, just won a record sixth straight Tour de France. It should be noted though that I didn't compete in any of these. If I had, I have a sneaking suspicion that things would've gone a little differently. I'd hang in the middle of the pack for the first few stages, then make my charge when we got to the mountains. Anyone foolish enough to get in my way as I powered up the peaks would get run over or slapped ferociously about the arms and hands. The other riders, grown weary of my domination, would have hits put out on me. The hitmen would make all of these elaborate preparations for my death, only to catch a glimpse of me in action and be moved to tears by my riding prowess. They would drop their sniper rifles en masse to start up fan clubs for me. The other riders would realize their errors and attempt to join these fan clubs, only to be thrown out on their ears for their offenses. Don't let this happen to you, Lance; retire with your dignity.

In slightly more intriguing news, we're having another baking contest at work, this time for appetizers. As soon as I heard of it, I began to think what I'd do with a second victory spoon. However, I soon came to find out the contest is scheduled during one of my vacation days. Hmm, interesting! I wonder how much my competitors had to pay to arrange that; I can only hope it was a lot. There are three courses of action I can take.

1. Go along with this, acting as if I have no problem with the contest being held while I'm away. Make lots of jokes during the week about what a shame it is I won't be there. Then, on the day itself, I will storm into the office with my dish right as the contest begins. Their ruse exposed, the other competitors will flee in terror, handing victory to one Cody Wayne Maxwell Powell.

2. Realize this contest is a farce and act accordingly. Avoid the office on that day as planned, and when the winner is announced, send a telegram reading, "Savor the flavor, chump. I take back my crown on Monday morn."

3. Take the high road, wish the entrants the best of luck, and hand over my crown gracefully. Anyone familiar with the way I operate can tell you just how preposterous this idea is.