2005-03-29 - 11:15 a.m.
Evil Days
My job is actually trying to kill me with boredom. Seriously. My computer had enough cookies hidden in there to send it into insulin shock, and I have spent most of the morning reaming out all its little cavities with a solution of boiling water, bleach, and liberal applications of Spybot search and destroy[tm]. My computer consequently hates me, and is running everything at quarter speed. While these matters are trivial compared to what my SCA compatriots are experiencing right now (and big hugs to you all), my brain has dropped all pretense at ironic cynicism and is trying to persuade me that I would have a lot of fun if I just threw the computer out of the window. The really tiny voice is telling me I should throw myself out after it, but that's also the voice that tries to persuade me that .22 ammo is a splendid caliber for making people dance without actually killing them (unless I want to). That's the naughty voice; we try not to listen to it too much. Aren't you all glad? I brought all the leftover candy from the party to work; I'm timing how long it takes for nothing to be left but two folorn Pixy Stix and an empty Twix wrapper - I bet two days, but only because people will snork the chocolate first. Only after all the good stuff is gone will they start on the pure sugar. I like my co-workers hyper. It's fun to watch. Oop, I think I hear my boss. Gotta go.
Dorsal - Ventral
Funnier than me: James Lileks disclaimer!
all words copyright Laura Mellin 2000-2005
Diarist.net!
Designed by Gen
|