Worky McWorkerson
Hullow there,
My name is Worky McWorkerson. My favorite thing to do is work. I feel sad when I go home, but usually not for long, as I go straight to bed! If I've gotten over-excited at work and can't sleep, I like to:
Speaking of which, I like to listen to NPR on the way to work as I drive my beige mid-size Ford Taurus. I also like to eat my breakfast burrito too. I only take bites at the stoplights, silly: anything else would just be dangerous!
My days usually go something like this: I'm usually the first one to get to the offices, so I like to turn all the lights on and watch the Xerox machine power up. It's quite exciting; sometimes it doesn't have enough paper, so I get to make a little excusion to the supply office down two floors from my cubicle! Then I rearrange my workspace while I wait for the computer to boot up. Most times, my co-workers will trickle in and deliver to me stacks of protocols, W-forms, proofs, and other things for me to do.
I love my job. I remember my interview: the man asked some questions, and then asked to see my resume. I should've remembered a binder clip, as I think he had a hard time carrying away the 132 pages of it! I just love to work!
After a while, I'll take a lunch break, and then get right back at it. And before you know it, the janitor's telling me to "get the fuck out," because he has to vacuum. That's just his funny way of saying it's time for me to leave for home. Sigh.
Life is good.
I will never be like this. That's a promise I'm making to myself here and now. But just in case, if I ever become like this: kill me with whatever is at hand. PLEASE. Beat my skull in with a stapler, plow me over with your car as I walk out of Starbucks, drive a fucking pencil into my ear--just fucking deliver my soulless corporate drone ass.
