My Photonic Personality Absolutely Radiates

Mr. Desk Neighbor sits across from me, facing me, at a desk that's pushed up against mine. Kind of like the desks you see in tv-show police departments - you know, where partners vs. crime work together and have their desks pushed up against each other, the better to communicate with I guess - only with our desks, there's a mini cubicle wall set up in between. More push-pin surface room for hanging miscellaneous Dilbert cartoons I guess, so I don't mind it.

Mr. Desk Neighbor, on the other hand, minds that the mini-wall only extends from the wall to halfway across the length of our desks. To remedy this, when we first moved back here a couple of months ago, in an act of comic inspiration (desperation?) he taped/glued/wedged/erected a piece of cardboard to fill the remaining space. He calls it his "photon-shield".

Hey, whatever floats his boat I say. Makes it more challenging to lob over wads of paper/trash/empty coffee cups.

Some days he's quite jovial. Other days he's down right cranky. And when his hormonal cycle sways into mine it's a mess of fireworks in here. Fun times!

Now me? I'm as peachy as a tabby cat today. Mr. Desk Neighbor, on the other hand, is getting biotch slapped around a bit.

Poor Mr. Desk Neighbor.

I might not be helping much as I sing badly along with the radio, but hey, everyone has to play to their strengths, no?

A few minutes ago, Mr. Desk Neighbor walks up to his desk, reaches into his secret stash of random crap in the overhead storage cabinet, and grabs a bottle of advil.

He turns to me and holds the bottle up like he's practicing for a commercial ad.

"These are to make you go away," he says.

"Notice how the bottle is mostly empty?" he says, giving the bottle a little shake.

Then he cries in mock anguish, "You're still here!"

Is it wrong that that made my day?

Well, it did, until a few minutes later when Mr. Desk Neighbor calls up our lab department. When they answer (both are on speakerphone, mind you) he screams "Where's my crack?!" Ah, that never gets old, no matter how many million time he says it.

[Insert eye roll here]

There's more discussion, most of which I tune out. Then someone on the other end asks if Mr. Desk Neighbor wants to talk to Richard.

To which Mr. Desk Neighbor replies, "No, I don't like Dick!"

I nearly snorted donut sprinkles out my nose.