Lunch time observations

I have an elementary school teacher's desk that forces everything to within a 2' radius of you; wire bins, phones, 10-keys, plant, oh and that computer thingy. Having to work with only looking forward for eight hours makes a depressed beginning only more depressed. I'll soon turn to fidgeting. I suddenly find it impossible to sit upright in my chair with legs at a 45 degree angle; instead, my torso flattens and my pelvis pushes forward turning me into an ironing board and I slowly sink down until my chin is resting on my ergonomic keyboard.

These Reese's Peanutbutter Cup malts at Annie's are pretty awesome.

Being fidgety and depressed also makes me forget to censor myself. I accidentally sent an email to the wrong Steve this morning which caused me to blurt out "Shit!". The person walking by commented "I know just how you feel" without skipping a beat in her step. It's nice to know that there's someone else out there.

Have I mentioned that Annie's has some big ass malts? Terrible taste in music but good malts.

Courage is a fickle bitch, don't you think? There one minute, gone the next. Shows up when there's lots of information but puts her head in her Guinness whenever there are too many unknowns. Her and her constant bitch cheerleader friend Logic can kiss my tattooed patootee. Odd bedfellows those two. They need to work out more so they can kick Self-doubt's ass. She's so possessive! I can't get a minute's rest with her around. I'm blaming this whole whacked stream of consciousness on the malt.

I lost $0.85 to the vending machine that kept my microwave popcorn teetering between the bottom wrung and the opening making it completely unreachable by any human without a key. I made up for it with a horribly fattening lunch at Annie's, so fattening that I think I'm going to puke. Hopefully not puke because that would be a waste of $15, but a good burp would do about now.

Now I have 3 weeks to undo the damage this will do to my cholesterol. My doctor has a really good knack for making me feel guilty. Oh well; guilty later, better now - that's what I say. I'm going to roll myself out the door now.