2004-12-30

Cubicle Fever

Okay, so I am one of maybe 4 people in the office this week, and the prolonged isolation, the silence punctuated only by the drone of the overhead fluorescents and whatever dreck I happen to be streaming, is rendering me STARK RAVING MAD. For real.

Give you an example: I'm sitting her bopping away in my ergonomically-kerrect workstation to Don Henley. Yep, just sitting here and singing away: "Out on the road today I saw a Deadhead stickah on a CAD-UH-LACK!" Kill me.

I am also flipping back and forth between my equally pointless myspace and Friendster accounts, even though I vowed several months ago that I would jettison one or the both of them, because they're just DUMB. Okay, myspace = lots and lots and LOTS of young girls with big gobby lipglossed pouts, and crappy, crappy bands. Friendster = aesthetically speaking, it's laid out MUCH better, but now has these creepy Orwellian lists of what people in my "personal network" are looking up, like "tips on flirting" and "witchcraft online love spells." Er, what now?

Should I open emails from someone named "Gooey Honeyshots"? She's sent me stuff at least three times now; I can't imagine what she's trying to insinuate. I mean, my member is big enough, chickens. I swear I need to roll it up like a firehose, it's so HUGE.

I was just thinking: wouldn't it be fucking cool if Pat Benatar and a bunch of whores just, like, BURST in here and danced down the center of the cube farm like in the video for "Love Is A Battlefield"?

Dear God, somebody HELP me...

lisamcc at 9:47 a.m.

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