This blogizzle postizzle is the off the snizzle for rizzle.

Could I be any whiter lamer dorkier?

Yes.

Yes I could. But that's not this post's point. Or is it...

I soooo do not want to be doing work today. This isn't anything new exactly; I rarely want to be doing this work. It's just that today my mind is having trouble staying on task. So of course that means today there's just too much work stuff to ignore (for too long).

Le sigh.

(Pssst... today is Pretend To Speak French Day in case you didn't get the memo.)

And still the mind keeps wandering off... it hides under the covers believing in the age old wisdom that if it can't see me, I can't see it. But ha! I'm on to it. It can't fool me! I... oh! Bright shiny object! Me looky!

...

...

er...

Where was I?

Oh. That's right. My desk. Can't believe that one almost slipped by me.

You know, I haven't overdosed on sugar or caffeine or insomnia-induced-adrenaline this morning. So I have no idea what the hell is up with me today?

I'm taking a (much needed apparently) sanity break right now, hence the writing and posting even with all the 'too much work stuff' mentioned above. I knew I needed to take a break when I started talking to myself. I do it occasionally with no qualms attached, but I try to avoid the self-talking when I'm near Office Higher Ups (and there's one sitting at the desk next to mine, for just this week... I hope.) So's I's gots to appear all professional an' shit, ya know?

(Psst... tomorrow is PTSFD. Today is actually Ghetto Office Talk Day. Pass it on. )

Probably shouldn't bother though, since he's already asked me to check out his ass. Not too professional, eh?

Well, to be honest, he didn't literally ask me to check out his ass. He noticed he had ink on his hands, then he stood up and noticed there's a HUGE ink stain on the seat of his chair. He starts to panic, naturally, and wonders if there's ink stains all over the back of his pants. So that's what he asked me as he turned his back to me, he asked if there was ink all over the back of his pants. There wasn't, because the ink stain is a couple weeks old. But still, since I've checked him out for stained pants maybe I can get a little leeway on a bit of incoherent mumblings to myself.