The requisite office-place christian. Does anyone else get a little "shiver" when they walk into your office and ask if you're going to afternoon tea/coffee break?

I'm always worried on the way I'm going to get jumped by a group of Mormons, or Jehovahs' Witties, and they'll drag me into the office supply closet and question, nay, interrogate me as to "how I'm going" and "am I happy with my life at the moment" and "do I often find myself lonely, or wondering what it's all about".

Sure, of course, I do find myself asking those questions. It's just that I don't think giving up my Sunday morning sleep-in (hangover recovery period) is going to help.

Meanwhile, back in the broom closet , (location change) they'll be shining a spotlight into my eyes and asking me if "I believe in hell", and "would I like to have this free pamphlet that only requires a dollar donation".

Man, that christian guys is really starting to give me the willies. I'm going to go round to his cubicle and box his ears in.

The start of something good.

Someone once told me that reading over other peoples sholders' was rude. That was convienient for her; she had the fashion section and I'd finished the crossword. The shoe would have been on the other foot had she had the auto section and me with the funnies. But then I'd have to get out of bed earlier and beat her to the paper. And on a Saturday morning? She can have the glossy pull-out section.

Someone once also told me that to wish a wish upon a thousand stars is like spreading marmite on a piece of toast that already had marmalade on it. That person later that evening threw up on their own shoes, and that looked like marmalade on toast, with some marmite and carrot and stuff. So the jury is still out. It's a little Peter-Pan-ish, if you ask me. (and I noticed you didn't!)

Someone has also been telling people that I'm dating someone who may or maynot have something to do with something. If you know who you are, and you know what I'm talking about, then, fine, alright, it's true. That someone is involved in something. You don't need me to tell you.

If you're not that someone (and I pity you all the slightly less for it) then go forth and beat Merry. Pippin should have rocked that world, and don't get me started on the Ents. *sheesh*

Still crap though...

(upon re-reading that....)

Nope.

Reflection on previous crap.

Upon just posting and re-reading my last post, it's has one salvation. It is a little po-mo (read: postmodern), with the whole self-referrential stuff.

And that's kinda cool. Right? Right??

Crap

That.....was also crap.

I really need to reconsider why I put this stuff up here anyway. Am I satifying the egomaniacal self-assurance that everything I think is worthwhile reading.

I only know one guy who would think that. That I am worth reading about. I don't think he's that up himself ("up oneself" means "self-absorbed").

ooh, ooh, I know, perhaps he has so little self esteem, he has to read my shit, and he doesn't think anything he writes is worth a bunch. Oh no. That's terrible.

"Hang in there, lil' bro. I'll read anything you type."

(unless it's about his pot-plant, or his desk, or working too much. errgh, some people have no what makes good reading.)

Crap

Well, that was a whole lotta crap I just wrote. I wonder if anyone got through it all. Perhaps I should put little breaks in them. Kinda like

If you'd like to, now would be perfect time to go and make yourself I cup of tea.....

You know, break it up a little, mix it up, swirl it round, all dat.

This one is funny too...

I'm in a great mood. I've been working my arse off.

I went and saw Capote (it's pronounced Cap-pottie) and didn't get it. It was like Martin Scorsese's The Aviator without the special effects. There was a prick, who wrote a book, about some killers, who may have been gay, who may have liked one of them. okok, so if'd I'd finished In Cold Blood, or even started To Kill a Mockingbird I might of got it.

But it feels like the damn movie should have been put on cassette tape that came with the books... "and at the sounds of the shot-gun, please turn the page."

On the up side, my pot plant on the sill is doing fine. At work my desk is tidy now so I can actually see the coffee mug rings underneath.

Does anyone out there actually care about the state of my desk? I mean, you've (probably) all got your own, right? In various states of chaos? I wonder what you keep on them? Same stuff I do?

Maybe you've got one of those irritatingly cute little trolls from the 1980's, blue-tacked (sticky tack for Americans?) down.

And an old-style metal pencil sharpener.

I've got one of those. It's cool to just sit it on the desk. Especially when you've got a meeting. Just slide it out casually into the center of the table, or maybe just nonchalontly place it beside your bright pink pencil case during the board meeting. People notice these things like this, and they'll be saying to themselves "hey, this is the sort of guy (or girl) who has an old-style metal pencil sharpener."

But maybe you don't want that sort of reputation around the office place. People will talk, you know. You'll notice it; people stop talking or change the subject when you walk past them at the water cooler. You'll get overlooked for promotions.

Or sometimes officemates will just stare at you.

From outside your window.

At night.

While you're at home in bed.

With your partner....

I guess some people really need their pencil sharpened at some REALLY weird times.

Next thing you know you're name is scribbled on the back of the toilet stall with your mobile number and the words "for a good time with your pencil, call them." And your home phone will ring at 2am, and you'll answer it, and there will be heavy breathing and a sorta grunt, and you'll scream "f*ck off you sick bastard" and slam down the phone, and your partner will roll over and say "what was that?" and you'll say "nothing honey, wrong number, someone just wants to give me their pencil."

hmm, I've been noticing a strange vibe in the air at work recently. Perhaps it's best that things like that are kept under a pile of paper work.

This one's funny...

Ok. Guess where I am? You've got 5 chances. I thought about giving you 3, I think that's over estimating your ability to think outside the square. (woah, that's really confrontational, Daspee...why doncha just settle down a little?) Ok, you got 3. McDonalds? No. Burger King? Nope. (If you guess Subway next, I'll scream)

Ok, so I'm at work. It's 20 to 2. Am. What kinda freak am I? Perhaps this place aint so bad.

I mean, there IS a pot plant on the sill. Ha, I just remembered, pot plant is NOT what you think. It's just an or-din-ary plant, in a pot, on a sill. He (or perhaps she? I'm not botanist (nope, it's a he (I just asked him (if he's talking to me, perhaps he is of the pot variaty?))))... eh-hem, HE is probably on the only guy in the building who spends more time than me here. And probably does less work. Only just.

This is great, I'm afraid of being outsourced to a barely living being with no hands.

Nope, I'm not going to go down the track of comapring myself with a plant. And, no, it's not that I feel insecure. You can't tell me good, honest, hard-working people don't feel threatened by a tree in a nice suit. Probably went to law school. I bet his dad knows someone on the board. His dad probably is the board table. Arbour-hole.

I hope next time I'm in a better mood. Anyone got any bright ideas for a topic?