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1:26 p.m. - 2001-10-04


I cannot tell you how many times today that I have fought the urge to go skipping down the hallway here at work singing "La la la la la la la!" at the top of my lungs.

Well...yes I can tell you ...once.

And that was just now.

Don't ask me why because I don't have an answer.

I just want to do it. I just want to skip, I just want to sing "LA LA LA" at the top of my lungs and I just want my co-workers to accept it.

Sadly, I don't think I'll be doing it. I think I'll just sit here at my desk quietly and finish typing this in.

I'm not even happy or ecstatic or anything.

I just wanna do it.

At my old job, I could do things like that. I could skip around, acting like a fairy and people just said "Oh. That wacky Uncle Bob".

But here...I guess I've mellowed. As appealing as a good skip and a rousing chorus of "La la la" sounds...I'm too reserved to do it anymore.

It must be part of the aging process.

Hell...I dunno.

I had sugar-free Jello at lunch.


Maybe it's the Jello talking here...but I feel giddy.

It's like a sugar buzz without the sugar.


I killed three bees at lunch today and maybe it's the wanton bloodlust coursing through my veins that has me so peppy.

Killing bees is probably the coolest thing you can do short of foiling a hijacker's plans to take over a plane.

But hey...I was at lunch and the chance of foiling a hijacker's plans at lunch were pretty slim. So killing bees would have to suffice.

I smacked one of them silly with the palm of my hand. He fell to the ground and I stomped a mudhole in his candy bee ass.

The other two came buzzing around, wanting to see what all the commotion was about. They landed just inches from my feet and it just seemed the thing to do...continue stomping mudholes in bee asses.

I was all like "BOOOYAHHHHHH!" on those bees and the bees were all like "EEEK!!!" back at me.

You know ... as if stomping bees to death wasn't cool enough...I made a candle wax cast of the tip of my pinky finger this morning.

Every time I have to do a phone interview at work, I go through a ritual.

I close my office door.

I turn out the overhead lights and turn on a nice mellow lamp resting on my book case.

Then I light my French Vanilla candle and do a little Aromatherapy in the soft lighting.

I masturbate like a madman.

Then I make the call.


I don't really masturbate.

But the mood is rather sedate and romantic.

Candlelight...the smell of vanilla in the air...soft muted lighting.


Just the thought makes me wanna latch onto my honker and squeeze the sex juice out of it.

Freakin' work and its stupid policies about masturbating in your office.

I just checked the employee handbook.

Nowhere in there does it say that you CAN'T masturbate at your desk.

Therefore, it has to be acceptable.

Plus...I'm considered disabled now. If they caught me and tried to fire me ... well hey dude....NO.

You can't fire me because I'm disabled and you can't say anything to me about whacking it because it's not in the handbook.

So nyah.

I bet I could walk up to the lobby and spank it right there and still keep my job.


I've got these folks over a barrel, I do.


What the hell's wrong with me??

I'm giddy and I wanna skip and sing.

I'm reeling after killing a few bees.

And I'm debating on the legalities of rolling the dick dice and shooting spew goo all over my employment's lobby.

It has to be the Jello.

It has to be.

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