Oh wait. That wasn't last night. That was eleven years ago. Damn. I watched the whole stupid post game show in hopes of getting a nice end-of-season montage. The end-of-season sports montage is one of my favorite things in the world. But no. All I got was forty-five minutes of Pace Mannion's trite and pointless analysis and Thurl Bailey's ridiculous yellow suit. Funny: when you google Pace Mannion you only get two pictures of him. On the whole internet, two pictures of Pace Mannion. The Jazz's Number 1 priority this off season should be firing Pace Mannion and getting a post-game analyst who can actually analyze. It would be nice to get someone who can enunciate clearly as well.
What's my point? Right. Not much sleep. Getting out of bed was hard because I was seeing double. I feel okay now, but not exactly right. I think this picture accurately represents how I feel at the moment.
Updates throughout the day as I see fit.
Time flies, I guess. I've almost been here three hours. I've been reading about Dante's Divine Comedy on Wikipedia. It's shorter than reading the actual book, but still too long.
Someone just texted me this picture, from the zoo in DC. My reputation is far reaching.
Listen, I had an important point to make about that other department moving in to our building. From the first day they arrived there's been an epidemic of people failing to properly flush the toilet. Which doesn't make any sense at all because they flush automatically. Also they toss their cigarette butts hither and thither. Not cool, Zeus.
I'm hungry. Very hungry. I'm gonna go steal some candy from under Liz's desk. The way I look at it if she didn't want me stealing it she would have done a better job hiding it.
These Kit Kats are all melty. And would kill her to stock up on some Reese's, or maybe a nice savory snack?
I have returned from a refreshing couch nap on the couch in our "lobby." I put lobby in quotes because it's really just that one couch. But it's a great nappin' couch. I've been complaining about that other department all day, and now I will complain some more. You'd think that when entering the building, if saw a strange hobo looking guy passed out on the couch, you'd show common courtesy and be quiet. But no. They come stomping in like they own the place, chatterboxin' away.
The scene has really picked up though. I've got Joy and my damn fool brother Sean on chat, and Gatsby is here at work, so things are more lively.
I just got off the phone with a woman who sounded exactly like Ringo.
Now I'm having a conversation about Oprah's favorite things.
I just refilled my water bottle.
I wonder what's happening out there. Out in the real world. So many people, living their lives, unaware of the plight that has befallen me.
Sometimes I like my job, like just now when Gatsby and I spent ten minutes making jokes about scriveners.