The product of paid pencil pushing induced boredom:


060608

*AAAaaarrrrghh...... (silence)*

I am now watching my brain cells commit suicide. They are afraid of the slow, painful degeneration that is being forced upon them. I don’t think that alcohol and smokes have had this drastic an effect on my brain cells. I can almost hear them screaming as they plummet into the bottomless abyss that is boredom.

*AAAaaarrrrghh…… (silence)*

Ah, there goes another one.

*AAAaaarrrrghh…… (silence)*

And another.

My suffering is mine, and mine alone. Perhaps before the day is done I will spontaneously combust. I’m sure the sudden appearance of a giant screaming fireball would suffice to entertain the other pencil pushers who are as driven to insanity as I am. And that would totally set off the sprinklers. I have always been fascinated by sprinklers. There’s one above my desk. I caught myself thinking of ways to set of the sprinklers and then surreptitiously looking around for cameras that may capture my deviance born out of boredom.

1hour and 45 minutes. 105 minutes. 630 seconds.

I’d count the nanoseconds, but I don’t think I have enough brain cells left for an undertaking of such magnitude.
(I had to do long multiplication to get the last value out.)

I shall have to satisfy myself by watching the second hand tick. But oh! How slowly it ticks! It almost seems as though I’m stuck in a perverse time wrap! Looking out my window and into town, I see the many little ant peoples scuttling to beat the clock. And I, poor I, stuck in the hell that is my office, I contemplate beating up the office clock. I’m convinced that it was damaged by some freakishly workaholic aliens in the office. It’s all a part of their plan, to take over the world.

Yes Saji, I finally believe you about the penguins and their suit wearing minions. I have had time to think about it (that, I believe, is the understatement of the year), and I concur on the subject. They’re now trying to sedate me with infuriatingly mundane and mind numbing tasks. I believe that once my brain is seasoned enough, one of the suited minions will complete the transformation by performing the secret penguin hypnosis manoeuvre. I will become one of the OTHERS!

*AAAaaarrrrghh…… (silence)*
*AAAaaarrrrghh…… (silence)*
*AAAaaarrrrghh…… (silence)*
*AAAaaarrrrghh…… (silence)*
*AAAaaarrrrghh…… (silence)*

Apparently, the fear of impending subordination is causing mass panic with my brain cells. I think those were the last 5 from the left. Or was it 6?
(Confused scratching of head)

Ah, I’ve lost what little mathematical ability I retained at the start of this entry.

Brilliant. The blissful darkness of stupidity cannot be too far away now.

When you die, you’re supposed to see a white light. Well, I say, when your brain dies, you will see a slowly spreading darkness. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT mistake it for cataract and waste your hard earned monies on an operation. Instead, flee! Abandon your desk and run for your life! Run! Before what little brain cells you have intact, succumb to depression and go ballistic!

”Run Forrest, RUN!”

“Save the cheerleader, save the WORLD!”

*AAAaaarrrrghh…… (silence)*
*AAAaaarrrrghh…… (silence)*

Evidently they’re still dropping like flies.

*AAAaaarrrrghh…… (silence)*

Ok. I think I will go assist the mass exodus by listening to Britney Spears’ “Piece of me” on repeat and reading the “British Standard: Code of Practice for Wall and Floor Tiling”.
(Yes. It is true. Contrary to popular belief, such things are apparently not urban myths told by antagonistic architecture professors to scare innocent freshmen.)

*AAAaaarrrrghh…… (silence)*