The new iPhone not only has 3G and custom apps, it also allows you to catch your dirty, rotten cheating lover. Here's how Blair tried to do it to me:

Blair somehow found a store during lunch on Friday that had iPhones in stock. She picked one up for herself then called me and asked if I wanted her to pick one up for me too. I immediately knew something was wrong. Blair does not do anyone any favors, least of all me.

Even though it's against policy, she convinced the clerk to do it for her. Blair can be a very charming person if she wants to be. It certainly helps if you don't know her.

All the clerk needed was my phone number and the last four digits of my social security number. 

That was an immediate red flag. But since I really wanted an iPhone and didn't see much of a risk (what was she going to do? Steal my identity and run up my credit cards?), I gave her the digits.

By the time I got the phone, she had already activated it for me. Once again, favors are not Blair's forte. 

I started playing with the phone and quickly realized one application had already been downloaded for me by my gracious lover. It's an app called "Whrrl". Here's the description:

Whrrl lets your friends light up your map based on the places they go in the real world. You can zero in on what they are up to right now, plus their past visits. 

Apparently, Blair didn't think I'd notice this application. She also thought that since I wouldn't notice this application, she'd be able to track my every move. She further thought she'd be able to verify if I was home like I said I'd be. She even further thought she'd be able to catch me cheating on her.

Well, it was certainly worth a try. An application my wife also would've been interested in checking out.

I disabled the feature of course. But if you and your lover both have the iPhone and he/she has downloaded a bunch of apps--he/she might not notice one more called "Whrrl". And then you can catch that dirty, rotten cheater. 

Looks like I'm safe for now. 

I owe Gladstone a lunch.  

I have proven Zenda the Persian is not having an affair Rusbridge because she is now having an affair with me. If she were having an affair with Rusbridge, she would not have an affair with me because that would make her an office slut. I know for a fact that Zenda the Persian is not an office slut, otherwise I would have slept with her a long time ago.

I just assumed she was unavailable because I thought she was fucking Rusbridge and would not double fuck at work. Double fucking at work is a very serious thing. You have to be fully committed to being an office slut if you're going to double fuck at work. And if you're fully committed to being an office slut at work, everyone knows you're an office slut. And since nobody considers Zenda the Persian an office slut, there's no way she would double fuck at work. And since she had sex with me on Friday night and she's not an office slut, that means it was a single fuck and therefore she's not having an affair with Rusbridge and I owe Gladstone a lunch.  

Now Alison is definitely an office slut. And although she is an office slut, I have never had sex with her. But that's because Melanie, Brandi, and Lucia all believed I wanted to have sex with her because she is an office slut. But that's exactly why I couldn't have sex with her. I can only have sex with a woman at work if other women at work I'm having sex with do not think I want to have sex with her.

Apart from the double fuck criteria, to be an office slut like Alison, there are also some other qualifiers to choose from. In my opinion, an office slut will also:

• Blow more than one man at any one holiday party
• Make out with at least one other woman in front of an audience of men at one or more holiday parties in a given year
• Come to work in the same clothes as the day before at least twice in a given year
• Become an urban legend at work because of rumors of unnatural sex acts performed on various men in the company
  
• Have drinks with four different men in a given month and let each hit any base (1st, 2nd, 3rd, or home); four combined bases equates to a home run for all of them
• Have a threesome or more with any combination of men and women from the office

I'm sure there others; feel free to mention... 

Although women I'm having sex with at work might think I want to have sex with Zenda the Persian, none of them think that I actually will have sex with her because they think she's having an affair with Rusbridge and would never double fuck at work because she's not an office slut. So in this case, I can have sex with a woman at work that other women at work I'm having sex with think I want to have sex with because they think I never will.

It makes sense, trust me. 

By the way, sex with Zenda was fucking amazing. I've never been with a Persian before, but I recommend it highly. She did some pretty crazy shit to me... 

(This is how the urban legend gets started...) 

Zenda the Persian smiled at me this morning. Twice.  

Although I believe Zenda is having an affair with her boss Rusbridge, the stuttering VP of Corp Communications, and would never succumb to seduction by another man because it would completely unravel the twisted rationalization she's adopted to justify fucking a married man, I will follow the standard formula for getting a co-worker into bed.

Phase I - Eye Contact: If your friendly smile is reciprocated with a friendly smile, the next smile should be slightly peppered with the fuck me smile. If that is reciprocated with a smile that is slightly peppered with a fuck me smile, move on to phase II. 

Phase II - Conversation: Find a reason to discuss something 99% business related. But make it interesting and find a way to make her laugh. If you get her giggling, you're definitely ready for Phase III. However, you must first plant the follow-up seed. This is the 1% of the conversation that is not business related. Like you notice she has a crappy cell phone. Tell her she should get a PDA or something. That's it. Leave it at that.

Phase III - Email: Now you have a reason to email her. You send her a follow-up to the cell phone comment. You send her a couple of links to some really cool phones. Seems like business because you're an I.T. guy. But it's not. And it's a reason to talk via email. Make a joke with a very slight sexual innuendo and see if she notices. Even better if she throws her own innuendo back your way. And at that point, start talking about alcohol. "I got so drunk last weekend..." Make sure she's a drinker. If you can confirm that, you're ready for Phase IV.

Phase IV:  You like alcohol and she likes alcohol. You should both continue this conversation over drinks...

Once you get her out drinking, that's it. Women don't have a drink with you unless they're at least considering fucking you.

Well, Zenda is having a drink with me on Friday night. But that's as far as she goes. I'm telling you, she is having an affair with Rusbridge and there's no fucking way she's gonna touch me tomorrow night, drinking or not.

Damn it. 

I'm going to lose this bet, aren't I? 

A friend of mine who was accused of having a gambling problem responded with:

"The only problem I have with gambling is that I can't gamble enough." 

Some people say I have a sex addiction. There's only one problem I have with sex and now you know what it is.

Blair is on the rag again and I don't mean literally. I don't mind having sex with her when Aunt Flo is in town, but when she's a raving lunatic, willy doesn't leave the house. Not unless someone else comes knocking.

Given we're in Los Angeles, most people around the office are betting on the Lakers game tonight against Boston. And by the way, there's no team loyalty when it comes to cold hard cash. Just because it's your team, doesn't mean you need to bet with them. It's game five and they're in Boston; it's 3-1 Boston. How would you bet your money?

Sports betting is fine for some, but I prefer betting on something that I have a little more control over.

Gladstone and I have been debating about Zenda the Persian in Corporate Communications for the last few weeks. I say she's having an affair with her married boss Rusbridge, he says they're not. Here's why I think they are:

• Lunch together at least once a week

Okay, that's about it. But that's enough for me. Gladstone says Zenda is too hot for Rusbridge, who looks like a flamingo. But I say power, money and influence are enough for a hot woman to fall for a man; looks are secondary if not irrelevant once you have the other attributes.

Rusbridge is a very competent individual, which is odd for this company. But he also speaks with a stutter, which explains why Senior Management appointed him VP of Corporate Communications.

With the Lakers game in full force and in the spirit of competition, I bet Gladstone I could prove Zenda was having an affair with Rusbridge within a week.  He took the bet.

Here's my thought on this: Zenda is no office slut. In fact, I don't know anyone who's slept with her apart from Rusbridge, if in fact they're hitting the sheets. But if she's actually having an affair with a married man, it's an emotional thing accompanied with a great deal of internal conflict.   

If she has rationalized this torrid behavior as an exception because of the deep emotional commitment she has to this married man--she would never sleep with another man or that would reduce this thing from a beautiful, beyond her control love affair to just another cheap adulterous office fuck.

So...

She has flirted with me before. I know there's interest. But there's a very large distance between flirting and fucking when rationalization of this kind is on the line.  

Gladstone agreed. If I can get her into bed, he wins. If I can't get her into bed, I win. Doesn't seem quite right, but that's the bet. I think he knows that if I can, I will, regardless of the bet. So he feels the outcome will be honest and true.

Sometimes it just makes sense to bet against yourself.  

(Go Boston!) 

Bonnie Bod cornered me in my office today and wept uncontrollably.

She told me that she had been unable to sleep because of the guilt and the only solution to this dilemma was for both of us to leave our respective partners and be together. That way, God would not be upset at her for cheating on the person with whom she's fornicating.

I told her it was the only sensible thing to do and that we could discuss after work. This, at least, made her stop blubbering like a baby and leave my office.

I decided to take the advice of my readers. In order to get rid of Bonnie Bod the quickest and cleanest way possible, I framed her for terrorism.

The first step was to alert Pangbourn, the executive sponsor of the Emergency Response Team. 

Pangbourn is already paranoid that someone is trying to blow him up. Since he was made executive sponsor of the ERT, he has become convinced that someone is trying to blow everyone up. With a simple anonymous tip about a certain manager of Interfaces who has distant relatives from the middle east, his level of paranoia rose dramatically today.

While Bonnie was at lunch, Gladstone and I planted some suspicious bomb materials in her office. First, we made a list of the things we knew were used to make a bomb. Not necessarily all the elements of a single bomb, but some elements of some bombs we knew about.

• A pipe (used to make a pipe bomb, right? Or why would they call it a "pipe" bomb?)
• Fertilizer (something to do with the ammonium nitrate content)
• An alarm clock
• Red and blue electrical wires

That's all we could think of. 

We planted the items while she was in a meeting. Pangbourn conducted the search himself. Bonnie Bod was immediately let go and Homeland Security was informed. Building Security took Bonnie Bod away kicking and screaming.

It reminds me of my 11th great grandmother Susannah North Martin  who was accused and found guilty of witchcraft in Salem Massachusetts in 1692. She was hung by the neck until dead. The good news is that she was exonerated of all charges in Massachusetts in 2001.

Maybe Bonnie Bod will be exonerated in 300 years too. All's well that ends well.