When the Project Manager is asking me what the deadline is for the project, I just chalk it up as another sign that the project is doomed.

CAD Monkey: Today sucked at work. I want to be a caterer.
ManThing: You'd have to wear a hairnet. You'd look like a lunch lady.
CAD Monkey: I've already got the bra.

I keep seeing the term “work-life balance.” My interpretation of that is: less work equals more life. Now, if I could only figure out a way to finance that thought…

My cube neighbor has a habit of offering me tastes of food that he has made. I appreciate the offer, but as a rule, if it’s not a dessert, I’m not really interested. Most of the time, when I decline, he just says, “okay,” and sits back down. Sometimes he persists, and I end up with a plate holding a chunk of overly-charcoaled meat on my desk. The only reason it bothers me is that I feel obligated to wash the plate. For meat I didn’t want. I don't even like doing dishes at home for stuff I did want to eat.

fax-spam

Suffering from a bad case of post-holiday letdown, I am becoming a slowly bubbling pit of rage. Despite a tall double latte (some of which I spilled on my shirt) and an additional cup of crappy office coffee, I am tired to the point of nearly drooling on the keyboard. I have contemplated going to the restroom and attempting to nap while sitting on the toilet.

Some of the cubicle assignments were rearranged this weekend, and now every time I have to pick something up off the printer I am forced to walk past someone who uses entirely too much perfume. Unfortunately, they didn’t move the guy with the perpetual sinus problem (hack, snort) and whiny voice that I overhear on the phone (for personal calls) all the frelling time. The more I hear his voice, the more I want to strangle him. And force-feed him Ben@dryl.

Somebody has tried, three seven times, to fax something to my phone number. The fax machine has left me a message twice four times. The message was, “beep.” I tried to fax something back to the number to tell them to cease and desist, but that only seemed to make the calls increase in frequency.

My phone started to ring again, and as I was gearing up to be angry again, I noticed it was my cube neighbor calling. When I picked up the phone, he answered, “beep!”

Bastard.

poetry slam

Creativity gone,
I am a dry husk.
Once full of life,
my artist's soul
now blows in the hot dry wind
that stings my face,
inspiring me to write
crap poetry

and wallow

in my pretentiousness.

Last night I had a dream about cakes. There was a table with six of them, really fancy, some over 18" high. I took a slice from two of them.

This morning, there was cake in the office kitchen. I am a pastry psychic!

As I was cutting a slice for myself, I told a coworker about how I'd dreamed of cakes, and lo, here was a cake.

He said he'd dreamed today was Saturday.

I wish his dream had come true instead of mine.

Today, I was complemented on my uncanny ability to not burn my popcorn in the office microwave, thereby not stinking up the joint.

I'm very talented.