Condolences

Hugo Chavocado would like to take this opportunity to express his condolences to the family of his namesake and to the people of the great state of Venezuela.

HAVE YOU SEEN ME?

Just when we thought the neighborhood was safe, when we thought we could let our children roam free and enjoy their adolescence, when we thought it was fine to water them before a long weekend in California, expecting to see their bright shining leaves when we returned Tuesday morning...this is when disaster struck. Hugo Chavocado, it appears, has been kidnapped.

Stolen. Snatched. Abducted.

How, you ask? Why? Who could do anything so HEINOUSLY evil? I think both you and I know the answer to that question. Scroll down this page and you'll see him smiling innocently into the camera as he so easily and quickly abandons his child for "law school".

And to make matters worse, I fear that Hugo's dead-beat dad did not break into the building on his own. No, he surely had help. I can thus no longer trust those whose unquestioned support I so willingly relied on. Even YOU, dear reader, are on my list of suspicious characters.

If anyone has information as to the whereabouts or condition of poor little Hugo Chavocado, please contact me immediately. This injustice must be rectified. I shall not stand and watch our country fall by the wayside as hateful former officemates prowl about in the shadows snatching innocent avocados from their warm beds. We must stand up as a people (and plants) and say NO MORE!

Updates to follow.

Joseph, I hate you.

FREE HUGO

http://freehugo.blogspot.com/

if she were a dog in Atlanta...

... then Kelly would be strangled or drowned for her poor performance. Other people in the world have accountability to their responsibilities. Doctors. Podiatrists. Homeopathists. Chiropractors. Other quasi doctors. Nurse practitioners. THEY all have responsibilities and accountability. A duty, if you will. So in such a world, where children are punished for their misbehavior, professionals are sanctioned for their misdeeds, and nations are invaded for their violation of UN weapons inspections, how, you ask, do the supposed keepers of the officeavocado blog get away with week after week of silence?

I, for one, have no clue what's happening to Hugo. If I passed him on the street, I wouldn't even recognize him. I might stop and wonder why there's an avocado plant on the street, but no guarantees as to recognition. Is he grown? Is he healthy? Has he been eating his soil? (the soil which, I might add, I carried back to 19-240/241) I would like to hear some news. Relent, you hard-hearted harbingers of humor. Tell the world. It's dying to hear.

Speaking of dying, all you other bystanders who work daily near 19-240/241, who pass and observe Hugo on a daily basis, you too bear responsibility in the matter. Hugo will kill you too if no one writes about him soon.

In closing, Hugo would like to say to all his fans out there IHAVENOIDEAWHATHUGOWOULDSAYBECAUSEIHAVEN'THEARDFROMORABOUTHIMINMONTHSANDYOU'REKILLINGTHEHARDWORKANDPROGRESSIPERSONALLYLABOREDTOWARDSFOROHSOMANYMONTHSDAMNYOUDAMNYOUALLTOHELL

Papa, Can You Hear Me?

You thought we were through, didn't you? The Office Avocado, once heralded by the New York Times as "the best blog in the history of the world," fallen to the wayside. Just another blog that had such promising beginnings, you thought, now lying amongst thousands of abandoned blogs in the graveyard that is Blogspot.com. Well let me tell you this: you were WRONG.

Perhaps an explanation is in order. You thought you were the only one spending the last month and half worried sick about Hugo, wringing your fingers in anxious anticipation of news about our brave little avocado, news you thought might never come. It might interest you to know that I, too, had the same painful experience and the reason is this:

Hugo Chavocado, feeling abandoned and cast aside by his father figure, Joseph, set out on an epic quest to find him and bring him back home to cubicle 19-240. His only knowledge of the whereabouts of said father figure came from casual comments before he left, mentioning a lengthy voyage through war-torn Eastern Europe. Overwhelmed by grief and the vast emptiness of 19-240, Hugo set out mere days after Joseph's departure, determined to bring him home. He traipsed through the bleak streets of Sarajevo, trudged along the alleyways of Budapest and spent some glorious sunny days on the beaches of Croatia. All along, just a few steps behind the elusive Joseph, who's movements became more and more erratic, no doubt to thwart the poor little avocado who just wanted his Pa' back.

After weeks of searching, Hugo could no longer deny his longing for the fluorescent lighting of 1 WFC. Just the other day, Hugo finally returned, sans Joseph. While he never found that which he was seeking, Hugo seemed to have gained an independance from the journey. And he seems to have finally cut himself free from the father figure on which he used to depend.

When I asked Hugo what caused the change of heart, he replied, "Who goes on vacation in war-torn Eastern Europe? I mean, seriously??"

From the front

There seem to be very few avocados in the former Yugoslavia. If there were any here, the former Yugoslavia would certainly be called (dare I say) Hugoslavia. There. I said it. I dared. The only avocado I have seen and eaten thus far has been in a... the Mexican restaurant in Zagreb. Wonderful mariachi band, decent guac. Nothing to write home about, especially with postage being what it is these days.

In other news, Kelly and Megan have failed to post much of anything on this blog. I talked to Hugo the other day (well, night here, because of the time difference between Hugoslavia and old Freedom Land) and he broke down over the phone because no one writes anymore. He also complained that he was too far away from the sun. Get your act together, you worthless paralegals.

Reporting live,
Joseph
Hugoslavia correspondent

ps. this post cost me 20 euro cents. i expect recompense.

G i 8 too much bratwurst

Last week, Hugo's father left him. It was a long time coming, we all knew it was going to happen. Poor little Hugo held his leaves high and posed for pictures, but we're pretty sure he was crying on the inside. Sometimes I think it would've been better if he had left without warning, certainly without all the fanfare of suits and photographs. But alas, Hugo had to endure a full day of goodbyes and silliness. Each hour of Joseph's excruciating departure will no doubt be another year of therapy for our young and vulnerable avocado. On the upside, however, Hugo and I had a grand old time raiding Joseph's abandoned office for supplies, bulletin boards and soy sauce.

In an effort to take his mind off his dead-beat dad, I sent Hugo on a much needed vacation to Germany, land of bratwurst and leiderhosen. While there, he stumbled upon the G8 meeting and, given his celebrity blog status, had no problem getting a seat at the table. However, things got a bit heated when Hugo mentioned an idea he had been working on - something about nationalizing all trees, plants and greenery in the US. Yes, that's right - oxygen, vegetables and the color green are in high demand and Hugo wants control of it all. This of course met some resistance, particularly from the German Chancellor, who immediately exclaimed, "VHAAAT?" Bush later met with Hugo one on one for a quick massage, followed by an explanation of the problems his plan might create. Given that our little Hugo Chavocado is still at a young and impressionable age, it did not take much to convince him of the faults of his idea. In the end, he agreed that Bush should make all of the decisions of the world. They shook hands/leaves and Hugo left to do a little sight seeing. He returned slightly dejected, but proudly dragging a bag full of brats that he snuck through customs (he told them it was potting soil).

I still haven't found the avocado I'm looking for

Come one, come all. The weeks have passed. The days have lengthened. The heat is on. The sun shines bright upon Hugo Chavocado. He is doing well. Quite well.

Due to some unforseen circumstances, blogging has been reduced sharply in the recent past. See chart at right. Experts were consulted as to an explanation for this trend, and a number of theories - crackpot and otherwise - were offered up. Here are a few of the more reasonable among them:

- the "tipping point" theory
- apathy
- it was the work of saboteurs
- overwork
- simple lack of inspiration
- it was Kelly's fault, because for some reason she still thinks we have to alternate posts
- string theory
- Hugo was too close to the sun
- our main contributing reader (the so-called Fifth Beatle of the office avocado, Recorder of Pedigrees) went off and got himself hitched and has no time for the blog anymore because he has a family to support
- crackpot theory
- that I was in jail
- I forget

Whatever its cause, we are thrilled and relieved to report that this recent decline has not affected Hugo. He continues to grow, as seems to be his wont. He spends most of his days perched by the window, which whats-her-face the "attorney"-who-never-seemed-to-be-in-the-office-ever-anyway finally evacuated and offered the up to Hugo. There's a little rumor going around the office (a rumor I'm just making up and spreading right now) that Hugo may have influenced her departure to procure the prime window office for himself. Many of you may not realize, but Hugo Chavocado draws quite a bit of water around these parts. From our informal calculations, We'd say that Hugo draws about a 1/2 cup of water daily through his roots. A lot of that water he very quietly combines with the various organic matter parts in his soil and converts to avocado stem and avocado leaf. He also respirates quite a bit. Is it oxygeny in here, or is it just me? But yeah. Hugo draws a lot of water in this town. You don't draw shit. See bar graph.
That being formally established (the Hugo is awesome thing), Hugo would now like all of you to come humble yourself before him. He is accepting gifts of cash, votive candles, cold beer, and cigarettes. One adoring fan has already left a yellow rose, which Hugo asked to be planted next to him in his soil. The flower is wilting. My guess is that Hugo will eat the flower soon. He gets pretty hungry.

Some other important news flashes:
- Hugo's impending dominance of the internet is at hand, much like your day of reckoning. Hugo's facebook and myspace pages have grown tremendously. Congratulations to all the new officers sworn in recently on the facebook, and congratulations to all of Hugo's hot friends on myspace. Hugo thinks you're hot but not quite good enough for him.
- Hugo Chavocado es mas macho de Hugo Chavez. "En tu cara, Chavez," dice Hugo Chavocado.

And now for some sad news. I have been fired. Laid off. Canned. Given the pink slip. I am being replaced by a computer. Actually, a monkey at a computer. He's overqualified. I expect security to come at any moment tomorrow afternoon and escort me, kicking and screaming, out the door. I intend to make a big fuss in hopes of actually getting thrown out the front door onto the street. Anyway, Hugo had a lot to do with my departure (see "amount of water drawn" chart above, especially the Hugo category). Perhaps he wants to expand over into my territory.



Kelly, the Neville Chamberlain to Hugo's Hitler, appeased our avocado friend and aceeded to Hugo's request that I be fired. She thinks she has secured peace in our time. I just wish someone would secure an actual avocado sprout (instead of leaves) in our time. But he can't fire me. I quit. To further illustrate my point about, see the graph at left. I will no longer be seeing Hugo on a daily basis. In fact, I may never see Hugo again. His name will forever live in infamy. Now he belongs to the ages. His memory will be enshrined upon the doorposts of my house, and upon my gates. I shall bind it as a sign upon my forehead or whatnot. Anyway, I guess I will be passing on the reins and full responsibility of caring for the plant (quite a burden that, I might add, I have shouldered ALONE for the past 4 months) to my sidekick, underling, and all-around inferior. So yeah. Peace out. I'll be around. I'll see you when I see you. I never thought it would end this way.

Quick! Staring contest. Me and you RIGHT NOW.

Take deep breaths. Hee hee hoo. Hee hee hoo. I know your shock and sheer joy is overwhelming right now, seeing this photo of Hugo Chavocado's lush and beautiful leaves for the first time. Now that Hugo is reaching adolescence, he's been spending much more time in the sunny window of the abandoned office next door. Much like little children need their milk and vegetables, Hugo needs his UV rays and photosynthesis. Even more amazing is the fact that he is flourishing despite the recently negligent activity of his father, whose claims of being in "jail" are really just an attempt to shirk the responsibility of caring for a young and impressionable avocado plant. Hugo's already starting to show signs of rebellion - wearing baggy pants, listening to loud music and hanging out with the "bad seeds".

Another interesting development - it appears that the Ann Coulter-Hugo Chavocado feud has resurfaced. Apparently Ms. Coulter has deemed Hugo (quite correctly) to be an environmentalist. On Monday, she issued an official challenge to Hugo for a global warming debate, the text of which was quite similar to (and just as hilarious as) Lord Monckton of Brenchley's challenge to Al Gore (http://www.heartland.org/Article.cfm?artId=20873). However, on Tuesday Ms. Coulter, apparently deciding that she would most certainly lose, issued a new challenge of quite different proportions. While she may have lacked the ability to debate an issue of national importance, she seemed certain that she would triumph in this new challenge. The text of the challenge read as follows: "To Mr. Hugo Chavocado, Quick! Staring contest. Me and you RIGHT NOW. Cheers, Ann Coulter". The contest took place at 12:22 pm, this the Eighth of May, Two Thousand and Seven.

The Results:

Hugo Chavocado: VICTORIOUS.

That's Amoré

It may interest you, dear readers, to know that the authorities did in fact catch up with our faithful contributor Joseph, who broke out of jail last week to reunite with his Avocado seedling. Knowing that the feds were hot on his tail, he fled the city for the sunny beaches of South Carolina, hoping that the salty air would muddle their tracking devices. But as it turns out, it takes more than a little salt to throw off the fuzz. I myself was in SC as well, attending the much anticipated wedding of my dear brother and avocado enthusiast (you may know him as Recorder of Pedigrees). Joseph was able to stop by this raging party for a few minutes to meet his loyal fan before helicopters, snipers, flashing lights and sirens showed up to sweep him away. We lamented his absence for at least 4 minutes before returning to the ice luge. Unfortunately, Hugo was unable to attend the soiree, as he did not exist when the invitations were printed.

Though Hugo is still a bit young to party with the best of us, his popularity has FAR exceeded our expectations. Hugo Chavocado mania is sweeping the nation! One of Hugo's loyal followers even started a facebook group (certainly not in response to pressure from us). http://bowdoin.facebook.com/group.php?gid=2258593692&ref=mf
To date, the group boasts 65 members, all of whom are appointed officers upon joining. Despite the disturbing eagerness of the members to devour Hugo's future avocado babies, it warms our hearts to see the overwhelming love and support that our little Hugo Chavocado has received.

So here's to you, faithful readers and loyal group members (except the Sworn Enemy Officer who decided to start a rival facebook group, ya jerk)......what was I saying? OH right. Here's to you, faithful readers and loyal group members. May your avocados always be ripe and tasty, may your guacamole always be Venezuelan and may you continue to love and support Hugo on his journey to a long and fruitful adulthood (pun INTENDED).

Cheers! *clink*

jailbreak

I'm free. I broke out of jail. I could regale you with tales of how I got out, but I don't think I will. If you've ever seen The Great Escape, well, it was a lot like that. A big tunnel. Frequent trips to the yard to drop dirt out of your pant leg. Unsuspecting Nazi guards who are oddly relaxed for a maximum security prison. A kickass Sousa-style march theme song playing constantly in the background. A chase scene involved motorcycles with sidecars. To make a long story short, I got out. Let's just leave it at that.

Hugo is big. Last week's pictures capture the gist of what's happening, but for those of you who don't understand, I'll explain it in more detail. Hugo is growing UP at an alarming pace. In the time it takes you or me to go grocery shopping or, say, eat an avocado, Hugo could sprout an inch. He usually limits himself to smaller spurts, though. He doesn't want to embarrass the other plants around. Quite the considerable piece of foliage.

On that note, yes, it is now appropriate to refer to Hugo as foliage. He's ever a borderline shrubbery. I'm beaming with pride.

Also some big improvements in the useless technology department: due to recent concerns about the temperature in the office, thermometers have been obtained. When growing an avocado tree, it's very important to know the temperature. In case, you know, it's too cold for the plant to grow. To our detractors who point out that (a) we don't even know what constitutes "too cold" for a tree and (b) there's nothing we could do about the temperature were it deemed too cold, I say poo poo. Get your own blog.

As promised, a shout out to the pub trivia team (every Thursday in jail is quiz night. Wednesdays are Matlock reruns.) that lovingly dedicated its team name to Hugo. Despite the Chavocados' crushing defeat, they learned quite a bit and surprised themselves at how much they knew about Tom Cruise.

Hugo is lounging by the window in the adjoining office. Maybe office services will get off their ass and give him a proper nameplate. Or maybe that's a project for a summer associate.

Since my whereabouts have now been revealed, I'll probably have to flee again. I'll probably make a good run but I'll run too slow. Odds are I'll be back in prison next week.

Like a father at war

It's like I've never met my son. I hear he's now up to 11.5 inches. My little plant is all grown up, and I am not around to see it.



- I won't be around to see his first steps (granted he'll never take any, because he's a tree, and those don't walk).

- I won't get to hear his first words (not that he'll ever talk).

- I'll miss all of his rec league b-ball games (he'll definitely be a center. or at least a power forward).



On the flip side, I never have to change a diaper, get rudely woken in the middle of the night by some rustling leaves on the baby monitor, or sit in a carpool line. He'll probably find a better father/tree figure somewhere along the line anyway.



And to you detractors who accuse me of not paying child support, (a) seeing as I'm in jail, the only currency I have access to is cigarettes (b) I provided the very pot in which Hugo currently grows (c) I carried the potting soil MORE than half the way back to the office. So there.



In closing, Hugo, I took a picture for you. This is the view out my third floor window. Hope you enjoy it. It was taken at sundown, when the day's last glimmers reflect off the metal bars. Hugo, this one's for you.

April showers bring May avocados

Oh yes, spring is here and it's an exciting time for our little Hugo Chavocado. After the potting, it took little Hugo no time at all to start growing like crazy! The picture on the left is Hugo yesterday, April 11th. The picture on the right is Hugo less than a week ago. Just look at how fast he's growing! There are even LEAVES. And we know that where there are leaves, there is most certainly delicious Venezuelan guacamole! (in 10 to 12 years)

I only wish that Joseph could be here to experience this miracle. But alas, he is cooped up in his insane asylum (apparently that's what they call Boston these days) busily punching holes with crappy hole punchers. It's been hard taking care of Hugo on my own. Midnight waterings, calming his crying fits every Friday at 10 when the Fire Safety Director conducts his terrifying tests, singing to provide as much CO2 as possible...the list goes on. I moved him to Joseph's desk, where he monitors Joseph's idle computer and office supplies, hoping to fill his father's void with some sense of responsibility and purpose. We try to pass the time reading books and playing 20 questions...but eventually we just get bored and run out of things to say.

I have noticed something quite strange. It appears that Hugo LOVES the printer, above which he used to live. No matter which way I turn his pot, within a few hours he will be bent in the direction of the printer. It really is quite perplexing. Now I'd like to note that, in the picture on the left, Hugo is bent toward the printer. The bending has nothing to do with the rubber band that he seems to be attempting to shoot at me (to no avail). Perhaps someday he will be as good an aim as Joseph or I, though I highly doubt it, given that Hugo has no hands or fingers, much less opposable thumbs. That's our little Hugo, ambitious avocado.

In conclusion, I shall leave you with one thought:
DAMN, that is one fine lookin avocado plant.
Adieu.

shh

Dear faithful reader,
I'm trying to type softly so they don't hear me. That's why this appears in small font. The harder you type the bigger the font is.

[Footsteps] Shh!

[pause]

OK, whew.

The reason I have to be quiet is because I'm in what some might call a mental health facility. Maybe it's a prison. It's minimum security for sure, but I can't just waltz out the door. I managed early this morning to fashion a primitive computer out of toothpicks, an apple core, a ball bearing, and an actual computer, so this is the first I've been able to contact the outside world.

Anyhoo, as you may know, I am no longer with our dear Hugo Chavocado. At the behest of my friends and relatives, I recused myself from the office home of Hugo and left town. I checked myself into this health facility in New England, where I shall remain for the time being. To put it simply, my presence near Hugo was posing a severe danger to both me and him. I was hungry and a budding avocado plant looks really tasty. I awoke from a stupor many times with a plastic knife in one hand and a bowl in the other, looming eerily over Hugo. I couldn't sleep. I was sweating profusely. I was experiencing hot flashes. It wasn't pretty. To stop all the nonsense and to avoid destroying the little plant, I fled. I ran. Far far away.

[Footsteps] I think I hear someone coming. Must go. This place is as heavily patrolled as the Castle of Aaaaaaaaug...

Choose Your Own Adventure: The Search for the Elusive Potting Soil

The following Choose Your Own Adventure is based somewhat on actual events leading up to the potting of Hugo Chavocado.

YOU sit in your cubicle, busily typing away at your box index. Every other word or so, you glance at your beloved Hugo Chavocado, as he sleeps soundly in his little water bottle on his perch above the printer. You move closer to give him a little pat on the pit...but what's this? A little green sprout peeking out from the top of his pit, the beginnings of a glorious new tree! Clearly this is cause for action. Do you 1) leave Hugo in his comfy waterbottle to rot away, thereby losing the only chance you had of turning him into a beautiful leafy avocado tree that would eventually produce delicious Venezualan guacamole OR 2) decide to plant Hugo in a little pot of his own? Scroll down to the corresponding number.

1) Hugo dies.
2) Well this is cause for celebration! But first, you must find some potting soil. You already have a pot from a previous plant...an experience that ended rather unpleasantly, but we won't go into that now. Where oh where might one find potting soil in New York City? Do you 3) try to steal potting soil from one of the lush-looking plants on a secretary's desk OR 4) check your friendly neighborhood supermarket? Scroll down to see what happens.

3) Good work! You're doing it! Quiet now...don't let the secretaries see you. You can use that plastic spoon over there to help get all of the soil out of that pot. No, don't put it back in her Tupperware full of soup! Wait, what's that? I hear talking....it's getting closer and closer........RUN! Drop the soil and RUN!
*BONK*
You're dead. The secretary blind-sided you with a heavy duty hole puncher and you're dead. Nice choice, idiot.
4) Of COURSE the supermarket will have potting soil. Why else would they call themselves supermarket if they didn't have super stuff like that? Let's see. Oooh you've been meaning to buy some Peeps. You'll just grab a pack of those. Let's see potting soil potting soil....OH! You love this cereal! Yes you will need that too. OOOoooo gummy bears! And wild cherry seltzer! Hmmm they clearly don't sell potting soil, but look at all of the cool stuff you got! At least you weren't killed by a hole puncher.
So the search for the elusive potting soil continues. Days pass as you ponder what potting soil is, where it comes from, and the benefits of drinking soy milk over regular. At last it dawns upon you. "AhHA!" you say. Why didn't you think of it before? There must be a florist in the WFC. It's full of busy business men who likely come home late every night and have to occasionally send flowers to wives in hopes that they won't leave them. How could there not be a florist? You check the map. YES! It's there and waiting for you to come buy Hugo's new home. You and your officemate decide to take a walk over there to check things out. But when you arrive, you realize it's UPSTAIRS. Do you 5) take the elevator at the end of the walkway OR 6) take the escalator at the beginning of the walkway? Scroll scroll...

5) What a lovely elevator vestibule, though it feels a bit cramped. Actually, it looks a bit more like a dead end than a lovely elevator vestibule. Whats that heavy breathing? You turn, and before you can scream, a Tyrannosaurus Rex eats you. You should know by now, savvy adventurer, that elevator vestibules often double as holding pens for T-Rex's. Shame.
6) You made it! The escalator was a bit narrow, and scary at times...especially when your officemate suggested you ride it with your eyes closed and your arms out, but you MADE it. And there's the florist, dead ahead! You happily scamper up to the counter and ask the nice man if he sells potting soil. He says yes, but "only in HUGE 50 pound bags!" You're DEVASTATED. You can't buy a 50 pound bag! Just as you're about to cry, both the "nice" man and your officemate point out that he was joking and you're an idiot. JOY is restored! You promptly purchase your two 3.3 lb bags of potting soil and exit the florist, full of glee and accomplishment.

Good job adventurer, you've found Hugo a new home. You are one classy arborist.

Do you smell pot?

Hugo certainly does. That's because he's IN ONE! That's right folks. Hugo Chavocado, former pit, formerly of the cup, formerly of the larger-than-a-cup waterbottle, has been planted in soil (potting soil) in a pot (pot). Very exciting news. In fact, I can't write anymore because I need to go lie down. You know, from all the excitement.

So if anyone's wondering why right now is so awesome, it's probably because Hugo's in a pot. In potting soil.

Victory in 2008.

Good morning sunshine. The Earth says hello.

Hello to you, faithful reader. Much to do, so much to do. So little time. First I would like to respond to a number of questions and comments posted on the OA over the course of the last few months. In no particular order, our answers are as follows:

- No.
- 3.
- Fortunately, yes.
- Without a doubt.
- About 14 feet.
- Yes.
- A stone's throw away from here.
- Thank you. I'm honored to hear that. I feel strongly as well.
- It's called slash-and-burn horticulture.
- I'll record your pedigree.
- Did I stutter?
- Yes, that's correct. CLOSER to the sun.


Now that that's all cleared up, we encourage you all to continue posting comments on the hour every hour.

Hugo continues to grow. No surprises there. His upwards-growing stem has attained lofty heights. It's actually sprouted far enough up that it has reached ABOVE the rim of Hugo's humble abode/waterbottle (powered by you-know-who-law). The root is growing thicker, and a number of shoots are coming off of the main root. As mentioned previously, we are in negotiations currently with our potting soil supplier* to relocate Hugo into an actual pot. As evinced by his recent spurt, he is clearly growing too large for his aquatic crib.


*Re: potting soil supplier: we don't have one. We're looking for one.
Actually, we're just looking for some soil. Not too much. Just a bag's worth. We don't know where to find any. If anyone has some leads about how we can get some soil without putting any effort into the process (we're plum out of effort this year) - or, better yet, if anyone just has some soil they could give us - let us know. Also, while we're on the subject, I could use some more coffee.

Movin' On Up

Hugo's pure radiance is blinding today. The soft florescent light bounces off his gleaming pit like spring sunshine on a newly budding cherry blossom. Since his sunny vacation on the 20th floor, which we all agree is closer to the sun, he has greeted each new day with ebullient enthusiasm and a new found zest for life. And yes the rumors are true - Hugo has officially begun to sprout upwards! If you were wondering what the miracle of life looks like, stop by 19-240/241 and you will FIND IT. This development has of course spawned some preliminary conversations about planting Hugo in our empty pot (yes we have an empty pot....there used to be a poinsetta....it died....we try not to talk about it around Hugo). Conversations usually go like this:

Me: Hmmm maybe we should plant him soon.
Joseph: Yea good thing we have a pot.
Me: But we have to get soil
Joseph: We'll do it later

As if Hugo isn't excited enough, he also made a shocking, but wonderful discovery this week. Apparently, according to the O.A.'s sources (and the phone directory) there is a person....in this building....named Avocado Pitt. Incredible. I kid you not. Would I kid? I wouldn't. And I don't. We have no other details (not that we would really post them on the internet anyways), nor do we have a picture of this amazing person. I imagine she would look something like this:

Miss Pitt, if you are reading this, Hugo would like you to know that he is 86% sure that you are his soul mate (he's got the hots for an attorney on 32, which accounts for the other 14%, but we all know it'll never happen)

He's baaaaaaack (and this time he's not mad)

Oh come all ye' faithful.
Joyful/Triumphant.
Oh come, ye', oh come, ye',
to 19-240/241
I am he as 'ye are me
and 'ye are we and we are all together.

And by we are all together, I clearly mean that Hugo Chavocado has made his triumphal return to his home, home on the ledge (above the printer), where certain unnamed deer and antelope have been known to play, blah blah blah. Yes, yes. You heard correctly. Hugo has returned from wintering in Florida (aka, the 20th floor), which as we all know is much much closer to the Sun.

Hugo had a wonderful time during his week-long vacation (again, closer to the Sun). He rested. He lounged. He sprouted. He drank some of his water. He slowly converted another small portion of the fleshy interior of his seed into some length of stem. He started to sprout upwards a tiny bit (yes, very exciting, I know.) He also gained much fame on his travels. He was greeted by devoted fans on his Sun-bound trip last week (they may or may not have made signs welcoming him to the 20th floor). He also read Prince of Tides, which he just adored. "Much better than the movie," Hugo told me.


Upon his return, Hugo was greeted by another large sign reading "Welcome Back Kotter" (it was the best we could do. All the "Welcome Back Hugo" signs seem to have been purchased in bulk by some rogue South American nation. Hugo can't read anyway, so it didn't really matter.) He then watched some college hoops and even tried to play himself a little. Here he is crashing the board. "Where we're going," he said, "we don't need basketballs."




Hugo then settled down for a day back at the office. He fielded some important phone calls and wrote down some important things with a pen. Among the other really important things he wrote down was a note asking commenters on his blog to stop trying to impress him with big words. Hugo gets frustrated when he has to consult a dictionary too often. It hurts his pea-sized brain. Especially now that the flesh of said pea-size brain is slowly getting eaten away and turned into his stem.

The avocado is always greener on the other side...

It's been lonely here without Hugo. Quite lonely indeed. I sit and stare at the spot where he used to read his books (and by read his books i mean sit in a waterbottle) and I cry a little. BUT I know that he is getting the sunlight he so desperately needs upstairs, which is, as we all know, closer to the sun. He is looking quite "resplendent" these days, as his temporary caretaker described it. I have spent my moments as an emptynester cogitating on the potential that Hugo has, that he may someday produce the most delicious avocados we've ever tasted. I snapped this picture (not really...I found it on google) of a grown avocado tree, old and wise - look carefully and you can descry a sense of pride emanating from the emerald green leaves. But, faithful readers, do not fear. Our little avocado will soon return to his cubi-offi-cle, where he will be showered with gifts and affection.

In the meantime, Hugo sends word from upstairs that he thinks President Bush is a "nancy-pants potty-mouth" and should stop trying to use ethanol. President Bush was contacted by the O.A., but refused comment.

Stay tuned, as I hope to eventually be able to load pictures onto my crappy computer...

AWOL

Greetings to you, the faithful reader. Hugo Chavocado has gone AWOL. Actually, we know exactly where he is, and we gave him permission to go. I just like that acronym. Basically, he's left our cozy little officle in search of warmer climes and sunnier environs. Somewhat worried about his lack of exposure to "real" sunlight, Hugo once again discussed the options with us last week. He did not feel that the close proximity to my computer screen last week (when he was shadowing me in my paralegal duties, if you'll recall) was providing him with a sufficient growing environment. And since none of you buttheads donated a plant lamp (Hugo was quite nonplussed, to say the least, at the deafening silence from his so-called "friends") or any cash for the procurement thereof of such a lamp, Hugo was left in the dark (no pun intended) on this one. He decided to go upstairs, "closer to the sun," as one colleague of mine explained to console me, for some better sprouting opportunities. I accompanied him on the fateful elevator trip on Friday evening (his first ever!) and he basked in the warm glow of the sun all weekend (no pun intended).

So instead of AWOL, Hugo has really gone UPSTAIRS. Try and figure that one out.

Hugo would also like to ask President Bush not to venture any closer to his country than Guatemala. In his most recent public statement on Bush's Latin American trip, Hugo remarked, "We have avocados, and we're not afraid to use them to make guacamole and not share ANY with the American entourage." He later added, "And we'll charge them for chips and salsa."

Keep the comments, support, and cash coming. Especially the larger bills.

Putting the Office back in Office Avocado

Hugo would like to apologize for the paucity of postings recently. His attention has been devoted entirely to shadowing me while I perform mindless office tasks. As a result, Hugo is unable to focus on growing, sprouting, or otherwise increasing his girth/width/height/stature in any manner. Also, the lack of real sunlight might be getting to him. More details on this later, but if anyone has an indoor plant light or could procure one in some manner (say, for example, if the police are about to raid your little indoor pot farm and you want to stash the evidence), we would gladly accept the gift.

For the record, we also accept gifts of money, food (especially guacamole), drinks, Starbucks products, Aeron chairs, Bugaboo strollers, and DVDs. Please don't be shy.

Hugo now has to get his deuces up, as they say in the business, but he wishes you all a fond "what up."

The Emotional Rollercoaster that is Hugo Chavocado

We are demanding guardians of our little avocado, as everyone can see. Hugo is raised under the strictest discipline with only the best education, water and opportunity. His recent foray into Joseph's personal space was perhaps, as Recorder of Pedigrees commented, a rebellion against our household. But we shall not be undermined. Hugo is still young and impressionable - an avocado plant just waiting to be molded by those who know what's best for him. We're thinking of starting him on the violin because really, you can't be a prodigy unless you start before potting. In addition, we're exposing him to a multitude of career options. Today, little Hugo Chavocado spent the day at Joseph's side, sitting next to his computer. We declared it "Avocado Job Shadow Day" (AJSD). It was heartwarming to watch Joseph explain the wonders of Introspect and exhibit labels as Hugo stared at the computer, clearly enthralled with what he saw before him. I was able to capture his look of sheer joy and exhilaration in a candid photo (right).


AJSD was a good opportunity to take Hugo's mind off of some rather disturbing comments made by Ann Coulter on Friday. He has been working on a vicious letter to Coulter, and has already written to Senators Clinton and Schumer asking for political action. In addition, Hugo asked lawyers at the firm to pursue legal action that would include Coulter's deportation to Venus (he took the book title "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" literally - we're so proud that he's reading at that level, we didn't have the heart to tell him it was a metaphor). Coulter was contacted by the O.A. for comment, but refused. Instead she sent an autographed picture of herself in front of the Confederate flag. Receipt of this picture sent Hugo into a raging tantrum, which I was also able to capture on camera (left). Despite our best efforts to shield him from the harsh world of politics, he has already become involved at a such a tender age. I can tell this is only the beginning of the Hugo Chavocado - Ann Coulter feud. Next thing we know, Hugo will be making appearances on cable news networks and lunching with lobbyists. Best to network with him now while he's confined to his water bottle (powered by Westlaw). WHO KNOWS what the future holds for Hugo Chavocado.......

Tidings of comfort and/or joy

Hugo would like to wish you all a happy Purim. He hopes your respective holiday experiences were as deep and meaningful to each and every one of you as Purim was to him this year. He also expresses his hope that none of you drove drunk over the holiday weekend (Hugo is a card-carrying member of AADD, of course). Hugo celebrated his Purim by dressing up as a budding avocado plant suspended in a giant water bottle and by sprouting another centimeter. His shell also cracked and blackened around the edges a little bit more. All in all, a very exciting weekend for him. He's pooped, to say the least, and he has a bit of a hangover.

In an oddly political move, Hugo has decided to go public and declare his outrage and disgust at Ann Coulter's recent inappropriate comments against John Edwards and homosexuality. As a card-carrying member of the ADL, the ACLU, the NAACP, the NYSE, and several other acronym-heavy agencies that require members to carry cards, Hugo boldly takes a stand against hate-speech politics and bigotry everywhere. His taking such a stand is doubly impressive, considering he's sort of just hanging and floating in water all day. But he takes his stand nonetheless. "Such remarks shall not go unanswered," Hugo remarked. He promptly donated all his cash to the Coulter-Cash fund in an effort to reach the $100,000 goal (see https://johnedwards.com/action/contribute/coulter).

For those of you who think Hugo supports inflammatory remarks by reactionary public figures just because his namesake happens to be a reactionary public figure who frequently makes inflammatory remarks... well, you're wrong. Plus, Hugo thinks Ann Coulter is a big fat idiot. And he's not at all attracted to her. Or to her money. Or to her flashy ways. Or to her silky blond hair. Or to the way her mouth bunches up in the corner when she smiles. Or to the way she looks like an angel when she sleeps, when light from the window falls across her face in just that certain way. And definitely not to her smell.

For those of you wondering where Hugo keeps all of these cards for the organizations that demand that one physically carry around an actual card: Hugo keeps them in his wallet just like everyone else. What a stupid question. He has room for all these cards now because he gave all his money to the John Edwards campaign.

When Papa's Out of Town...

The decision was made, the action was taken, and after careful process and procedure, our little Hugo Chavocado has a new home! He seems to be enjoying his new waterbottle (powered by Westlaw) and has already grown quite a bit since the transfer. At last measure, his stem is 2.5 inches. Not too shabby. As Hugo grows and flourishes, his personality has really begun to shine through that splotchy, pitty brown shell. As it turns out, he's quite the jokester! Yes, we'll often come in to find a whoopie cushion on our chairs or our desk calendars turned to the wrong month. And he quitely watches from his waterbottle (powered by Westlaw) as we are once again fooled by his tomfoolery. He really keeps us on our toes!

Now, as many of you know, Joseph has been out sick this week. Hugo seemed a bit sad, but also quite excited. If you read the previous post, you will know that Joseph is more of a disciplinarian than myself (and by disciplinarian, I mean child abuser). So, with Papa out of town, our little Hugo Chavocado roamed footloose and fancy-free about the cubicle. Some might say he went a bit too far. Rather than get involved, I thought I would document Hugo's forays with my camera....which I happen to have that day. Weird.

Left, you'll see Hugo lounging in Joseph's chair. And on the right, Hugo looks to be rummaging through Joseph's drawer. He was also seen playing with Joseph's basketball hoop, using Joseph's napkins and returning them to the napkin drawer, wearing Joseph's shoes, and staring at pictures of Joseph's girlfriend. Some might say he was slightly out of control, but I like to follow a liberal parenting strategy. Unless he's messing with MY stuff. That's not cool.

Overall Hugo had a wonderful day, full of joyful new experiences. I only wish my officemate could have been here to witness another day in the life of our little avocado. But alas, he wasn't, so instead we just messed with his stuff.

Fin.

Quarantine

Apologies for the delay in reporting to you, the faithful reader, on the progress of Hugo, our not-quite-so-little avocado plant. I was unfortunately stricken with a bout of the old plague (the bubonic variety, I believe) for the past few days and, although I perhaps could have mustered up the strength to come into work, I certainly didn't want to put Hugo in any danger. Young'ns are susceptible to a whole range of ailments and airborne pathogens, and with me sneezing all around Hugo he almost certainly would have taken ill and died. Such are the responsibilities of being a parental figure. You have to place the interests of the avocado plants around you above your own personal wants and needs. You wouldn't know anything about that, though, because you're not entrusted with the care of a beautiful baby avocado. So get off your high horse. And stop telling me how to raise my child. Who are you to say I can't hit him?* He's gotta learn some respect. If there's one thing my parents ever did right when I was a child...

Now that I've put you in your place, I will report to you on Hugo. When I last laid eyes on him (Monday), his stem was shorter than it is now. I deduce that it has grown in the last 2 days. Just an educated guess. Let's call it an assumption. Or, dare I say, a hypothesis. The stem, still fuzzy as ever, is almost TOUCHING the bottom of the plastic cup. Kelly and I have been discussing moving Hugo from his basinet into a larger, full-size crib. Truly a huge step in the life of this little plant.

Westlaw, the self-proclaimed "Industry Leader in Legal Research," has thoughtfully donated to me a large, clear plastic water bottle which we think will serve as Hugo's next pad. For more information on our sponsor's services, visit www.westlaw.com. (For all interested parties, the Medical Litigator feature is now up and running. How very exciting!) Westlaw will, unbeknownst to itself, continue to be our sponsor (i.e., "Hugo Chavocado, powered by Westlaw") until we figure out a way to scratch off the Westlaw logo from plastic bottle. Any other interested sponsors should contact us by posting a comment on this blog. We accept payment in the form of cookies.

We will report soon on the moving of Hugo from the free-agent plastic cup to the tall, clear plastic brought-to-you-by-Westlaw-the-Industry-Leader-in-Legal-Research bottle.



*For the record, I have never hit Hugo.**



** You can't prove anything. Are you gonna take the word of a plant over my own?

Education a la avocado

It has come to my attention that many of you are questioning our avocado growing method, particularly the somewhat gruesome practice of impaling Hugo with sharp wooden toothpicks. The toothpicks are not just my own sick invention to torture a helpless avocado pit. OH NO. They're so much more. By suspending the avocado slightly above the water, you allow it both exposure to air and a constant water supply. Now, it was unclear as to which end should be up and which should be down. We received conflicting advice on several accounts, which resulted in a shifting of the toothpicks from one end to the other (a few times). As a result, Hugo has three open toothpick wounds on his water end. Having to move the toothpicks was a difficult and emotional process. We gave him some whiskey and a rag to bite on. Unfortunately the field of anesthesia has yet to expand to avocados.

This harrowing experience is what makes his new found sprouting stem such a miracle! Our little Hugo pulled through his difficult infant hood, and is growing faster than you can say Venezuelan guacamole. Now, once his "stem" reaches six inches, we will be forced to trim it back to three. Hugo does not know about this, and we would appreciate if our readers would be kind enough not to tell him. After the toothpick incident(s), he is really going to resist any attempt to trim his manhood. However, it is for the best and we're sure that after just a few years of expensive therapy, he will come to understand.

Here is the most helpful website we've found thus far: http://forums.gardenweb.com/forums/load/teach/msg121755005890.html

More pictures to come, of course...

Seeking Window

Hugo has expressed a desire for a window. He says this fluorescent lighting is making him queasy. If anyone has a spare window lying around that they don't want anymore, please email or fax it to us. Our fax number is #1.

In response to questions posted by our dear readers:

(1) Kelly did the pricking with the toothpicks. It was all her idea. I couldn't watch and had to be restrained. I don't know how I'll be able to handle the recommended 6inch-to-3inch trimming. I'll need a hand to hold.

(2) Me not looking happy in that picture? That's about the happiest I'm ever going to look, so get used to it. Can't you see I'm beaming?

Hugo says "hola, ¿que tal?"

Simply glorious.

Since the creation of this site, our little Hugo has entered the hearts and minds of thousands (about 20) of people from across the world (office). We have received several (1) eager requests from far and wide (Greg) to provide pictures of our burgeoning baby. So HERE THEY ARE! This picture to the left was taken at approximately 10:30 on 2/21/07. As you can see, Hugo loves to be the center of attention. He practiced a variety of poses, but it was felt that this really captured both personality and growth.

For those of you who have yet to meet him face-to-face, perhaps this will clear up any confusion as to why it is assumed Hugo is male. It also appears that some of you thought we were talking about an actual avocado, rather than a seed/soon-to-be-plant. There is a very serious distinction. One is to be eaten, while the other is not. Make no mistake. We are giving Hugo the best of care, nurturing him to grow to his full potential. Should he produce avocados, however, we will viciously devour them in delicious Venezualan guacamole.

The naming ceremony (pictured right) was quite exciting. Hundreds (2) crowded around the itty-bitty seed as "Hugo Chavocado" was scrawled in Sharpie on his little plastic cup. In addition to receiving a key from the city and a Fulbright scholarship to study the farming industry in South America (we don't even remember him sending an application!), Hugo was formally congratulated by several partners of the firm. What an honor! With the ceremony's conclusion, Hugo's water was lovingly topped off and the masses returned to work. All in all, a proud day for Vanezuala and the Chavocado family.

Hear Ye, Hear Ye

2/21/07 10:55 am

It is with great pleasure and a hearty appetite that I announce the official title of the burgeoning miracle of nature that is our little avocado plant. Although we plant-owners happen to agree on the vast superiority of this particular name over the rest (wait for it...), the degree to which we were influenced by the enormous welling of public sentiment in support of this choice shows once again how easily we cave to pressure.

So, thusly, as a resident (avoca)dough-face, by the power vested in me by the machine that graded my bubbled-in NY Notary Examination answer sheet, in accordance with the law as best befits my purposes and designs and any other schemes I might come up with, in association with my not-so esteemed colleague who gets billed by our firm for postage stamps, in memory of the progenitory line of avocados to which our little plant traces its lineage, I declare that our little avoado shall henceforth from this day forward be known as Hugo Chavocado.

Pictures of the naming ceremony will be uploaded by tomorrow. Check back in for daily excitement. Special thanks to Mr. Bougere for his suggestion of the dignified name which we have chosen to bestow upon our little plant. Any offended Venezuelans or followers/supporters/employees/henchmen of the real Hugo Chavez should talk to Mr. Bougere. Not me.

we be jammin'

our avocado's sprouting stem is growing longer and longer by the minute. New concerns have arisen about the stem eventually hitting the bottom of the plastic cup, in which case the little unnamed seed would have to be transferred to pot or cup, depending on what our research and analysis suggests. Below is a picture of the seed's progress thus far...

Keep the name suggestions coming!

We need your thoughts and prayers

Our little avocado (still yet unnamed, although not due to any paucity of suggestions) is coming along quite nicely. The root is now at an estimated 2 cm and is covered with some odd-looking fuzz. I'm sure that's a good sign. However, I was taken aback when I came upon this statement in that abominable, leftist propaganda publication, wikipedia:

"While an avocado propagated by seed can bear fruit, it will take 4-6 years to do so, and the offspring is unlikely to resemble the parent cultivar in fruit quality. Thus, commercial orchards are planted using grafted trees and rootstocks."

We will not be moved! We are determined that our little still-yet-unnamed avocado will flourish and will fulfill the long, proud tradition of its ancestry - that is, to provide us with batches upon batches of guacamole. Please keep our little unnamed friend in your thoughts and prayers.

Name contest!

2/16/07. 12:25 pm.

Due to the overwhelming response from the general public, we will be hosting an open competition to choose a name for our little avocado plant. No purchase necessary. All are eligible to participate. The winner will be given $7500 and a congratulatory hug. So respond with your best suggestions by clicking on the comment button below. No jokes, please. This is serious business.

Changing of the water

It gives me great joy to report that, at approximately 10:58 am, I replaced both the cup AND water for our little sprouting avocado seed. It has been suggested by interested parties that the avocado be named. While we have yet to decide on a name, it is quite clear (judging from the rather large "stem") that our avocado is male.

We are waiting and staring with great anticipation to see what will happen next. More details to come...

It's growing.

2/16/07. 10:35 am.

Some very exciting news on the avocado-growing front. The avocado pit, which was placed lovingly in water roughly a month ago, has now cracked and has begun sprouting some sort of "stem." It's quite exciting. The office (19-240/241, particularly) is abuzz with anticipation. At some point, perhaps we will look up the name of this mysterious "stem," but for now we will just marvel at the miracle happening before our very eyes.

In other news, the guacamole that was the legacy of the rest of this sprouting-pit's former self was delicious. Fittingly, the expectations for the guacamole-potential of our burgeoning plant are rather high. It comes from good stock.

Pictures to follow. Stay tuned.