It would be remiss to write about the peeps at A Very Hip Software Company and not include my cubicle mate, Kristoff.

Kristoff, like myself, is a protege of Pepe and his frenchie mustache. All day we tinker and toil and fuss and muss. Every little detail must be glorious. Each product produced must be excruciatingly creative, and painstakingly inventive. Why, it took Kristoff three hours today to dot an ?i??

But that’s not too bad. Hell, it took me four hours to wean myself off the catering table at lunch today. God bless you bitsy pineapple chunks and delicious dill dressing!

So Kristoff, he lives his life like the class clown. He?s always playing pranks, making ridiculous suggestions, putting things up his nose? oh wait, that last one’s me.

But anyway, I know that beneath that blithesome veneer, there lurks something more sinister. In our weekly discussion about American Idol, Kristoff confided his discomfort with Anthony Federov. I’m bothered by Anthony because I think he is an androgynous, panty waist Clay-Aiken-wannabee. But Kristoff, he’s disturbed for far more personal reasons.

Shuddering, Kristoff confided that some random woman at the grocery store mistook Kristoff for Federov - that fair-haired fruitcake.

Kristoff was obviously upset, and being the good neighbor that I am, I told him no you do not resemble Anthony I-am-so-femme Federov in the slightest. In fact, I said, unless you start looking like a painted lady, I don?t think you could ever be that way.

But actually, I do see the resemblance.

Posted in Work