OT: Jones’ing for a dip while in the office

Right now, I’ve got a small pinch of something in my cheek that’s enough to put me away for a long, long time. And when I say ‘put me away’, I mean right back on my couch as an unemployed blogger without the unemployment compensation.

But you know what, I couldn’t help it. As I sit here on my third day back in Corporate America, I needed to spend some time with Ms. Mint as my dipper peers call it. So I took a smaller pinch then usual here in my corner office; just a little ball of brown goodness, and I tucked it away in my right cheek facing the wall. Now this isn’t my most enjoyable means to have a dip. In fact it isn’t enjoyable at all really. It’s really like having a chaw. I’m left here spitting in secrecy into a bottle of Tropicana ‘some pulp’ that I got at a nearby gas station before reporting to the office with my girlfriend’s debit card. My expenses this morning? $10 in gas, $4.16 in Skoal Mint, and of course this Tropicana that served as a dual purpose device. It allowed me to take my supplement, it was my breakfast, and now it spends time with me as my spitter. So

You see, I know how my luck goes. I know that my boss will waltz into my office here with some mundane question; or maybe even the owner of the company. And they’ll be sure to do it while I’m dipping. But I sat here all day, before lunch, after lunch, meeting 1, meeting 2, etc. and all I could think about was having this one chew. I even texted my buddy who is a collegiate baseball coach who has mastered the art of dipping in his office. He has a simple solution. That sick fucker sits in his office all day and guts the shit. He told me in small amounts (or every once in a while) that gutting is not harmful. I know the risks, I know he’s full of shit, and I know that if I have to; I might just be forced into a situation where I’d have to swallow a load of brown spit to save my job.

All a risk I was willing to take to enjoy a chew while on the clock. I’ll update how my secret operation went later.