To be specific, I already got it. You know that perv I told you about who sexually harassed me at work? Yeah, well, apparently he asked for and/or tried to give a couple other women (including my boss) their/his digits and they complained to security, so the guy has been banned from the building. Ah ha! Take that, creepy men of the world! 'Course, he hadn't really bothered me since I had to open a can of whoop-ass on him, but the man deserves what he gets. Hee hee.
OK, enough schadenfreude. Not much has happened since I last updated at noon today, although I have been contemplating the idea of boredom as torture. I mean, it is a legitimate form of torture (can torture be legitimate?) -- think of solitary confinement. But I say that solitary confinement has nothing on boredom at work. And I'm not talking about the occasional hum-drums, the "I-hate-filing-and-making-photocopies" kind of boredom; I'm talking excruciating, want-to-use-my-keyboard-to-bludgeon-myself-to-death-so-that-I-don't-have-to-be-here kind of boredom. Because that kind of boredom, the kind where you have to maintain a pleasant and professional demeanor while staring into the middle distance secretly hoping for an airplane to fly into the building, is the worst kind of torture. I can't listen to music or watch DVDs, I can't play games; I can't even sprawl out on the floor and take a nap or mutter to myself like I could if I was in solitary. All I can do is surf the web, which, believe me, sounds appealing but loses its sparkle after about twenty minutes. I can update my blog, but only when no one else is around which means only on the nights I work till ten. Which is torture unto itself, and is not something to desire or look forward to.
Help me.
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