"Double Spacing" It has been brought to my attention by my coworker that I need to have double spacing when writing a blog, What the hell is going on here??? I

never read about this in the faq or help section of this website. The problem is not with my lack of double spacing, its with me. This is why I harbour extreme hatred and

disgust for my coworkers. Why is it that they always have to correct you? Make you feel like a worthless piece of trash, first disgarded by your mother at birth only to be

crapped on later in life at work. Well, I have a rebuttal. Tell me again about the double spacing and I will reply by stabbing you with my pen in your ocular cavity, I bet you

won't correct me again.



↑ [ discarded by fislan  |  4:13 PM ]____________________________________________________________ ___ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Power Suit" Only half an hour left before I get to leave the office for the weekend! I always keep an eye on my watch on Fridays, with every passing second ticking by so slowly, it seems like my overseer boss has purposefully slowed down time to make my last half hour drag by. Its like the few seconds people describe experiencing before a major car accident where everything slows down and they succumb to a trace like dream state. The difference is that i'm not having a car accident, rather I fantasize about the ways that I could destroy the company and ruin some of my coworkers lives. Take last week for example, I entered my trance at the normal time, and I found myself in the elevator with my boss and several coworkers. The elevator was also packed with executives whom were all wearing power suits, talking about how they were going to golf on the weekend at their expensive members only courses and drive their brand new Navigators around the city. I had a major problem with their scenarios and immediately hit the emergency stop button on the elevator, this was no longer going to be an elevator, rather a tomb. I'm about to start getting medieval and BEEP BEEP BEEP. Fuck, my godamn casio watch alarm goes off and I am snapped back to the cruel reality of my existence. Its time to go home. In the elevator ride down I smile like a pyschopath at all the others, cackling to myself, thinking about the fury and devastation that could have been. Why do they avoid eye contact with me? I wonder some times...



↑ [ discarded by fislan  |  4:01 PM ]____________________________________________________________ ___ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Tuscan Defection

And so I ponder... can I still post if I never come back?



↑ [ discarded by rotameus  |  4:42 PM ]____________________________________________________________ ___ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Ding Dong

Impending wedded feebness will permit two lucky feebs to escape for three glorious weeks.



↑ [ discarded by wAnderLost  |  11:18 AM ]____________________________________________________________ ___ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _