A number of years ago I worked for a rather wealthy software company. Nothing you’ve heard of. Unless you are one of my former co-workers who used to read this blog but probably stopped around when the “oh my babies are so great \/ horrible \/ awesome \/ growing up” posts started overshadowing the “life is kooky and I have time to think before I write” posts.* But it made a lot of money. The software company. Not the co-worker. As far as I know.<\/p>\n
*I wrote this very post you’re reading, for example, while my children took turns running across the living room and saying “Mommy! Mommy!” and then running back over to the window. <\/p>\n
One Christmas, we had our company party at the Westin Bayshore downtown. It was very fancy. The food and drinks were included. It was a safe bet to do this because 90% of the company was made up of developers and programmers who didn’t drink (or speak) very much. The 10% that was sales and administration made up for them in both the drinking and speaking departments.<\/p>\n
Saint Aardvark, who has a special history with blue cheese (something about eating it by accident in a tube station in London and then barfing on his feet for three weeks — I don’t know, he has his own blog.<\/a> Ask him) was sitting at the bar at this Christmas party, talking — probably about Linux — with my boss’s husband, who was a very nice man. The boss’s husband said, here, eat this blue cheese, and SA said, no, I will barf on you, because [this story about London and etc.] and my boss’s husband said, aha, no, see the key to enjoying blue cheese is to eat it while drinking Very Expensive Port.<\/p>\n SA said, where would I get some of that at this company Christmas party where beer and wine and hi-balls are included but probably not Very Expensive Port?<\/p>\n My boss’s husband said, I will order it for you, as soon as I check with my wife, who is your wife’s boss and also the company accountant, to make sure we’re on budget with this Christmas party.<\/p>\n My boss lifted her head from her folded arms and said: Go nuts. Order all the port you want. The salesmen are all drunk and the programmers have gone home to play video games.<\/p>\n (doesn’t that sound like a modern folk ballad waiting to happen?)<\/p>\n So SA drank expensive port and ate blue cheese and not only did not barf but became evangelical about blue cheese + expensive port = sweet heaven. I either need to toss the cheese or go buy some expensive port. Guess which one of those things is going to happen.<\/p>\n What do you think? Is blue cheese sweet heaven or certain death? And does anyone want mine or should I put it on Craigslist?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" My in-laws left for their Ontario home this morning, after a very fun visit. Despite many reminders to take it with him, my father-in-law left a hunk of blue cheese in my fridge.* No one in this house eats blue … Continue reading ![\"\"](\"http:\/\/torturedpotato.com\/cheeseblog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/07\/bluecheese.jpg\" "\\"Mmmm!")
<\/a><\/p>\n