Jeez, what a workday. Three hours of meetings this morning, another hour and a half this afternoon, and now I’m installing new software on my laptop. Slooooooowly. This is like watching grass grow, or paint dry, or Keanu Reeves act. Painful.
Tonight, I’ve got to take the dog to the vet for a checkup. Amazingly — at least to me — my dog is great at the vet’s. Mainly, I think she just digs the attention and love, and therefore puts up with all the associated poking and prodding. Come to think of it, it’s a pretty good deal for her.
(Hey, if a nurse at my doctor’s office would come and rubbed my underside while I was getting my shots, I wouldn’t mind going to the doctor, either. Hell, if some random chick on the street came up and started ‘petting’ me, I’d probably let her jam a needle or two in me, too. I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in this. Seriously, ladies — try us sometime. Just don’t tease us, and always have a lollipop ready for us afterwards. There are rules for this sort of thing, you know.)
Now, what the hell was I talking about? Ah, my long, meeting-infested day. Gotcha.
Except I think I’m done bitching about that — most of you have similar problems, so there’s not a lot of entertainment value there.
(Of course, most of you probably don’t have strange sultry women coming at you with needles, so maybe it’s a wash. If that sort of thing is ‘old hat’ to you, then you probably need to find a different neighborhood. Or stop pissing off the local womenfolk, or stop pissing on the local womenfolk, or in any case stop doing whatever it is that’s making them lunge at you with syringes. That’s a pretty clear sign that you’re doing something wrong; I’m sure of that.)
So. What other trouble can we get into, then? Hmmm. I’m drawing a blank. It’s as though the meetings and software and office crap just sucked every ounce of creativity right out of my head.
(Whether through my nostrils or my ears, I can’t really tell. Could be either, actually — I feel like I can hear a little better than usual, but I also smell a faint whiff of almonds when I sniff. That’s right, isn’t it — creativity smells faintly of almonds? Oh, no, wait; that’s gangrene. Creativity smells like citrus and old socks. Damn. I could have a problem, then. I’ll have to check on that.)
I’m not sure whether this should be adding to my troubles or helping them, but I’m also currently in an office with room for five people, but I’m the only one here. Everyone else moved out to greener pastures, and it’s a little creepy being in here all by myself. Truth be told, I’ve never seen more than three people in here at once, despite the five desks. And frankly, five people in this space would be pretty damned cramped, unless we threw the chairs and wastebaskets out into the hallway.
(Dunno what we’d have left to do in here if we did that, though. I bet we could play a mean game of Twister in here, though.)
Anyway, it’s moot, because all my office mates are now mating in offices with other people.
(That sounded just a tad presumptuous, didn’t it? I suppose I don’t really know that any of them are — as we speak — ‘mating’, whether in an office or anywhere else. And to be fair, I can’t really give you good odds that a couple of them ever mate. Scary little buggers, they are.
I think I just got carried away with the thought of playing Twister in here. I mean, I know the kind of kinky shit that always leads to. I read Penthouse Letters — I’m down with the 411. Dog. Um, yeah. Ahem.)
Okay, where the hell was I? Offices? Mating? Gangrene? Damn. I lost it.
Well, maybe I’ll have better luck tonight, after I get the dog back home and settle in for the night. Hopefully, some dinner — and perhaps a few shots of tequila — will get my brain back on the right track. Right now, I’m fried, and it’s almost time for the puppy’s appointment, so I’m gonna get the hell out of here. Until then, you folks have a nice evening, and — *snuuurf!!*
Damn. I swear that smells like almonds. I hope to hell somebody’s eating some sort of nut assortment, or drinking an almond mocha, or something in the next office. I’m starting to get a bit nervous here. I don’t remember haveing any horrible, life-threatening, limb-mangling traumas in the past couple of days… but the way my brain feels right now, that’s no guarantee. I’ll have to have the wife do a full-body scan on me when I get home tonight. Guess that means I’ll have to talk her into a game of naked Twister. Boy, the things I do in the name of good health, eh?Permalink | 4 Comments