Friday, July 9, 2010

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So Stupidly Anxious, It's Not Even Funny

It's been 3:57 PM for like the last 45 minutes. Shit is starting to get ridiculous up in this piece. Also, since it's this kid's last day and because I haven't seen the boss in what feels like 2 weeks, people are getting ICED at work. Yeah, I thought it was dead too, but apparently the zombie version of icing decided to come back and terrorize me at my place of work. Granted the kid dealt with the awesomely gay situation like a champ--said, "Fuck you guys" and drank two Smirnoff smoothies in about 6 seconds, then reopened his Excel sheet. I shed a figurative tear.

Even after typing all that, I think it's STILL 3:57 PM. And my stapler is broke. Broke to the point where it has become a certifiable weapon of death and destruction. Device is shooting 3 staplers at a time at roughly 450mph. It even set up a hilariously devastating "That's What She Said Moment" for me. Kid down the way saw me wielding said destructor stapler and said the faithful words, "I'm scared I am going to get hit in the eye." His face sunk as he was saying eye, because he knew he was about to get megatron spiked with the best TWSS people have heard in weeks. It was like I won the NBA championship or something. Needless to say, it's still 3:57 PM and I am realizing that I have to type at a clip of 700 WPM.

Is Ginuwine inappropriate? Because 10 years later with a full understanding of these lyrics I truly wonder what the fuck I was doing going to FYE and buying the Ginuwine CD when I was like 12.

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