The Office TV Show Series on NBC: Creed Thoughts

You may have noticed it's been many moons since I last posted.  It's not because I haven't had any thoughts.  Trust me - I've had tons.  More than normal actually, thanks to that stint on peyote.  And I'm 40-90% sure I posted them all.  The only logical explanation: government censorship.  It's a real drag, man.  But I refuse to let The Establishment keep me down.  The people have a right to Creed Thoughts!  Here's a few that have been hanging around my cranium lately:

Buying a zoo in this economy is a pretty crappy idea, but it's a lot better than buying the farm.  (Cause that means you're dead).

Chalk outlines are not just for tracing bodies.  They also make excellent listeners.

If something's not funny, I assume that means it's for kids.  But that would mean war is for kids, so maybe I'm wrong.

Lately I've been thinking about getting rid of my leather couches, and bringing in a couple of cows to sit on.  It's way more organic and would provide a real conversation piece.

Today I took a long hard look in the mirror and wondered, is it too late to become a mirror salesman?

I think the greatest compliment you can give to someone you first meet is, "You look way better in person than you do in binoculars."

People say smoking is poison, but those people don't seem to be aware that poison can be delicious.

Reminder: Move bricks from Scranton to Farmville.

Boy do I have a story to tell. You know how I was keeping track of Michael's safe combo? Well it finally came in handy. I was trolling around the office last night after hours and heard some noise coming from the boss's room. Normally the office is real quiet at night, which is why I stick around in the first place. Quiet is like a drug to me and if I don't get my fix every night, I start to get the shakes.

So anyway, I heard these noises and got freaked out that the bossman was using his office for a little nighttime nooky with that new chick that sits in Tony's seat every day. Not wanting to get caught, I dropped down and started to army crawl over to investigate (I got a Private Investigator license so I'm allowed to investigate anything I want, suckers). As luck would have it, there wasn't anybody in there. Turns out that the noise was coming from inside Michael's big furniture cabinet thing. So I opened the cabinet door, half expecting a cat to jump out at me. Usually when I open cabinets or closets or anything, cats end up pouncing on me. For some reason, cats find me very attractive.

Nothing jumped out at me, but I could hear the rustling pretty close to the ground, so I bent over and figured out that it was coming from the safe. For a second, I just stared at it, wondering what could be inside. Then I realized that I had been saving up Michael's safe combo for this very occasion. Well, this occasion and whenever I needed some cash, but that's beside the point.

I went over to my computer and looked back at my previous entries of this thing. Apparently I wasn't too good with my record keeping because the numbers were kind of off. I ended up trying out every combo I wrote down and you know what? I didn't get it right until the very last one I tried. The good news is, I got it open and you'll never guess what was inside.

No, it wasn't a cat, smart ass. It was a squirrel! I don't know for the life of me why that guy had a squirrel in his safe, but I do know that I got me a new pet. And I'm going to train it. Right now I'm calling it Butthead, but I'm open to suggestions for new names if you got any. In just a few months, I'm going to have the best trained squirrel in Pennsylvania. I'm also going to blackmail Michael because I'm pretty sure it's against the law to lock a squirrel in a safe. False imprisonment or something.

Everything's coming up Creed!

I want to say I was about four years old when I fell in love with music. My memory’s not great, so it could have been anywhere between four and fourteen, but I think it was closer to four. I was hanging out in an old abandoned car factory in South Carolina and I came across a bunch of old bumpers lying on the ground. At that age, I used to walk around with a bunch of sticks in my back pocket in case I ever needed something to throw. When I saw those bumpers, I don’t know what came over me, but I knew that I had to take out a pair of sticks and start banging away.

From the instant my sticks hit that metal, I was hooked. I pounded out beat after beat, dancing and singing along. I loved it. The music jumped into my body like a venereal disease from a hooker. I stayed in that factory for hours and hours just banging away. The next day, I came back and started right up where I left off. I made up songs about everything: jump ropes, corn, beaver skin hats. Nothing was off limits.

About a week later, I saw an old man playing a beat-up guitar on the street. I watched him for a while, trying to learn what he was doing as I stood there. After about an hour, he said he had to go to the can and asked me to watch his instrument. I gladly agreed. When he left to go to the bathroom, I snatched the guitar and ran all the way to the factory. It was the first thing I had ever stolen and on that day, I said to myself “Music and thieving are going to be the biggest things in your life” and you know what? They still are.

Music has been a part of me ever since. Not a day goes by where I don’t tap out a rhythm or pick up my axe and play a lick or two. If you cut open my veins, I’m fairly certain that quarter notes would come tumbling out. I can’t imagine my life without music and I don’t want to.