Office Space

So yesterday I was able to coerce LemonDrop in creating some photos of our times together. All this recent scrapbooking business made me realise that I dont really have any pictures of myself or my friends so I thoguht it was about time to create some memories. While LemonDrop and I were posing on the hood of my car, we even got some honks from some very perverse men - nothing like a little perversion to make a cherish moment among your friends that much more memorable!

Alrite so down to business. Updates. HKG and I are still going strong, I see him a few times n ow and then since he is up north right now working but it seems to be working out. We get along really well and dont experience any of that distance awkwardness that seems to grow between people when they havent seen eachother in a long time. Im going up north today actually after work to visit my parents at the cottage so I am planning a lover's rendevoux (spelling?) friday night.

Now onto the stuff that Ive been thinking about lately. After spending the past month working in a cubicle, in a tiny office, I have come to realise that I am just not cut out for the corporate world. The cubicle, the clock, mondays - theyre EATING MY SOUL! I was so bored the other day I even wrote an "ode to mondays" which will be featured next monday on the blog. Now I dont know if it's just me, am i alone in the world in my feeling that this cubicle is sapping my spirit, breaking my will to live? Does anybody else feel this way? How do you put up with it? The incessant striking of the keys, that one flickering flourescent light, the pacing sound of your bosses feet as he stalks the grounds practically whipping his employees into submission. And why is it that all of these offices seem to have the mysterious dark stain on the carpet, one that has been there long as anybody can remember but nobody really knows what it is? Ill tell you what it is, its the blood of those who came before who slowly went mad and decided to gouge out their own eyes with a ruler rather than having to sit one more hour infront of their computers.
Everyday, when I walk through that front door, I die a little.