Things are really slow over here at the office. I should by right pick up some self help book and chisel myself into the 21st century man. But my motivation needle is flirting at the zero level right now. Someone should write a book that teaches you how to motivate yourself, to motivate yourself.
1)Sometimes you’re sad because you’re not happy.
2)Sometimes you’re happy because you’re not sad.
A” Blah mood” is when you feel 1 and 2 at the same time.
How often do I get like this? Ummmm… on average… about once a month… although I’ve not felt like this for quite some time now. Blah moods are quite debilitating as you feel helpless in trying to overcome your helplessness… probably what a mad man feels when you put him in a straight jacket.
Lunch break. 1 hour.
1) Consume lunch 2)Sneak over to the Fulton-Magnolia Post Office to mail a CD in a bubble envelope to Sis Bernie in Singapore 3)Get my web designing skills back to my desk at PDS.
Ample time… except upon entering the front door of the post office I was given the impression that Cindy Margolis was giving free blow jobs at the head of the line. Before I could back out of the line, a guy in his mid-thirties, unshaven, black tie, white shirt, took the spot behind me. All of a sudden, my situation didn’t look as bleak. As a matter of fact, a sense of pride started swelling in my chest, knowing now that I was the proud owner of the spot in front of the the guy behind.
The loser behind me (we’ll call him Mr. X) let loose a burp and his breath reeked of alcohol. I was like, “Hey, dude, it’s only 2 in the afternoon.” I gave this guy the benefit of a doubt. Maybe he just had his wisdom teeth pulled out and maybe his religion did not permit anaesthesia.
Well Mr. X continued to burp and it was getting intolerable. I had to burst the bubbles that padded the inside of Bernie’s envelope for air. What ever the case, I refused to back out of the line because I knew his burping was probably a ploy to force me to give up my VIP spot. There were times I really felt like holding a match in front of his mouth and see if a flame would snake into his belly causing it to blow up, a bit like the plane explosion at the conclusion of Die Hard 2.
Time ticked away. I started looking at my watch and was hoping I would get some crowd participation. I mean, if everyone started looking at their watch repeatedly and back up their teetering patience with a flustered sigh, I’m pretty sure the PO employees would have gotten jarred out of their tedium and up their pace. All of me wanted to rouse the troops by raging a battlecry, followed by a litany of fiery phrases that would give these cowards their knees back… all this as I gallop up and down the line, fists clenched, arms stretched in front of me as if I were riding an invisible horse.