Apparently, I wear sweatshirts and taste chili all day.
Here I am in a photo that ran in this month's 'Stripes newsletter':
I'm NOT giving the peace sign, by the way. I'm indicating which chili I'm going to vote for. ... Out of the entire D.C. office branch of our company, only three of us would be persuaded to be chili judges. What's wrong with chili, man?
(the third judge requested to be cropped out of the left side of this photo. I don't really blame her. The lights in that conference room make everyone look like the undead.)
To double your viewing pleasure, at right is a photo of our esteemed publisher. We'll call him T.K., since those are his initials:
At first, I thought, "Wow! The lights gleaming off his hair look like a halo!" Then I saw the points of the star poking out from his head on the wall behind... Those look distinctly like something quite the opposite. Heh.