I couldn’t agree more.

I got so tired of looking at celebrity gossip websites at work that I had to take a break about twenty minutes ago. After a short stroll around the block, I came back inside my building and went through the lobby to the bank of elevators. When the first one opened, I boarded immediately following another woman without even looking to see if the elevator was going up or down. It wasn't until I reached over to press the button for the fifth floor that I noticed that she had already pressed the button for the second level of the basement. Resigned to the fact that I had stupidly boarded an elevator that was going down, I leaned back against the wall to wait out the detour.But then the elevator went up instead of down, and stopped at the fifth floor first. This wasn't alarming at all - many times, ...continue reading.

Slippery Slope of Muddy Misery

I have a completely awesome job. My company is very small, my two bosses are exceptionally cool, I work from home all the time, I wear jeans on the days I manage to make it into the office, I work completely independently, my paycheck is sufficient, I have my own office, and I have a company cellphone that can practically brew me a cappuccino. And yet, I'm miserable. The actual work I do is so tedious, so irritating, and so incredibly detail-oriented that I want to duct tape my body to the interstate to make certain that when cars run me over, I am not dislodged from the paths of other oncoming cars. The work I do involves helping other companies prepare proposals for a particular type of government contract. I'd explain it in more detail, but then you'd die of boredom and there would be one less person to ...continue reading.

Wikipedia Says: “They kill their prey by injecting venom through their fangs.”

I woke up this morning at an ungodly hour and, being unable to fall back asleep, decided to bore myself into slumber by reading a dull novel. After twenty or so minutes of reading, I was suddenly compelled to look towards the window that is directly next to my bed, at which point I noticed a bug crawling along the wall towards my bed. Well, you might call it a bug. I call it The Reason Twenty Years Was Shaved Off My Life This Morning. A bit of research has revealed that this bug was a common House Centipede: Its taxonomy was irrelevant at the time, though, as it was absolutely horrifying to see in the early morning light. Even worse was the realization that it was less than a foot from my pillow, the pillow on which I put my face, the face that is attached to my body. ...continue reading.

Term of Endearment

My boss just asked my coworker if she could throw away the old chips and cheese dip that had been left sitting out in our kitchen all day. When my coworker explained that they'd been left out for sharing and that she no longer had an interest in them, my boss announced that she was going to trash them because the cheese looked congealed. She was on her way past my office towards the kitchen when she stopped abruptly, exclaimed, "Oh, man, first I'd better ask The Stomach," and then popped into my doorway.My boss called me The Stomach. The Stomach.I declined. Not because I have standards, though, but because I had already eaten half of a tub of buttercream frosting after lunch.

He Beats Me Because He Loves Me

I was rearranging my closet the other night, when I stood up suddenly and slammed my cheekbone and eye into the corner of a newly positioned shelving unit. As with all startling injuries, I yelled something unintelligible, crashed to the floor, and clutched the injured part frantically. If I hadn't been in such excruciating pain, I would have been able to laugh at the comical nature of the accident. However, I was too busy trying to make certain my eye was still attached to my head.The pain finally subsided enough for me to crawl out of the closet, at which point I started crying and giggling simultaneously. The swelling began immediately, and my friend, who had witnessed this whole event, started laughing at my deformed, teary face. He brought me a bag of ice and examined the injury, causing me to cry harder as he commented on the swelling, the ...continue reading.

Sharing Dirty Personal Secrets

Today is cleaning day at Haus Hoffmansteingoldberg (aka Home of The Landlord), a day that is more easily recognized by the endless soundtrack of Depeche Mode rather than by the actual appearance of cleaning. I'm not sure what the attraction is to Depeche Mode - don't get me wrong, they're fine, but to listen to them for hours? Any sane person can really only enjoy so much of their own personal Jesus. Evidently, however, that rule does not apply to The Landlord, whose self-proclaimed favorite hobby is cleaning his guns in the dark basement while listening to Depeche Mode on repeat.But watching The Landlord clean reminded me of a memory that I'd suppressed for the past decade, a memory that is so disturbing that it should have remained dormant for all eternity. But now that it's out and swimming through my head, I figured it might as well go on ...continue reading.