87 posts tagged “work”
So, there is one upside to working from home all day without air conditioning.
When it's too hot to handle anymore, you can always finish off the work day in your bathing suit:
There are some children screaming outside my window and I can't tell if it's "OMG! I'm having so much fun!" screaming or "Oh fuck, why is this man abducting me?!" screaming. I'm going to pretend it's the first one because I can't stop working to go deal with children being abducted.
This is what makes me different than the Scientologists, apparently.
If I have to watch one more hour of television, I. Might. Kill. Myself.
Spiegs made it into Variety today. And not because he was involved in an underage sex slave scandal with various studio heads, as I have long predicted. You win, Spiegs! You win!
I made this bomb-ass mash up. It would be out of character for me to brag, but... suck my dick, I'm awesome.
NotHired is my fave new blog. I always expect to see some of my own coverletters from last year when I was unemployed and just really phoning it in.
Fuck.
I'm in your brain.
Go to Defamer and look at the video still I picked for this post.
Every time I see it, I hear this song in my head:
So I never really look at the clock while I'm working, and I only get a sense for what time it may be when Wagandstuff alerts me that it's time to go for a walk or someone else says something time related. Just a moment ago, for example, Kendall said "I'm going to lunch with Taylor, I'll be back soon" and I thought to myself "Hmmm, that's a late lunch. I wonder why I'm not hungry yet." Then I looked at the clock. It was 12:30. I thought for sure that it was at least 3. AT LEAST 3.
Fuck.
Wagandstuff is driving me nuts today. I actually just cried about it. That's how frustrated I am.
He's been dancing on top of me for the last hour because he managed to sneak a cookie away from me while I was working. If you happen to be a booze hound/candy freak like me, you forget the effects of sugar. If you're a six pound not-human, high fructose corn syrup really does a number on you, trust.
He's been biting my hands, slapping at the keyboard, shoving his rubber bone in my fucking mouth. When I put him in the other room, he cries like he's being raped by invisible ass goblins. I honestly don't know what to do.
