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November 4, 1998
I forgot to tell you my pet peeve of the guy that sits on the other side of my fake wall (but thank God for that wall so I don't have to look at this guy all day). He has got to be the most boring person on the face of this floor (surely even duller than he could be found in this building). The reason he's so fucking boring is that he talks like he's the concluding paragraph on a term paper. He just repeats whatever you say. He also plays golf and watches football every Sunday, and probably wants to own a boat someday. Anyway, here's an actual example of conversation he and the chicken (that's another story) had today:
Chicken: Gosh, Oracle sure is pokey today! (bitch says this every day, by the way)
John: Yep, sure is slow... sure is.
Chicken: Well, I'm going to lunch to give this a chance to speed up.
John: Hopefully it's faster when you get back from lunch.
Chicken: Where did I put my lunch?
John: Can't find your lunch?
Chicken: Here it is. Well, I'm off to lunch.
John: Off to lunch, eh?
I feel I should record this because there's just got to be humor for this in a play I might never write. But the guilt I'd feel for making the whole audience drowsy is immense. I suppose I could play back the tapes for fussy infants to put them to sleep, but God, I'd hate to take away a child's chance at happiness by playing them office chatter. At least give them hope for the future.
November 5, 1998
I just went down to steal my last soda for the day. There was some people selling books in the cafeteria, so I looked. The only book they were almost out of was "Extravagant Desserts". Big shockaroo there, considering how fucking fat everyone that works here is. I was thinking the other day that I should be paid a stipend by all dieting agencies, plans, books, etc. It would then be my job to walk around and yell at people, "Go on a diet, ya fat fuck", followed by loud oinking. My goal would be to lower self-esteem at a national level (although Cosmopolitan, cinema, and television already are doing a bang up job, so competition would be stiff). Make 'em cry until they feel they have to try something that will help them lose weight. I'd probably have to throw in a "Less food and more exercise would never work for you, porko." Just to make sure they didn't try that.
I had a great idea on Sunday. The Alternative Lifestyle Tobacco Only Pipe Cleaning Kit. When you unroll the zip locked bag this product comes in, you find an assortment of tools for quickly cleaning your bong, oney, thing you made in shop class, etc. The only stumper is what to use as a non-toxic resin solvent. Or even, a toxic but pleasurable resin solvent. Once that obstacle is cleared, I'll be making a fortune. You'll be able to find it in parking lots and incense laden record stores everywhere.
There's more to say, but my supervisor is sitting across from me now and I better start hitting keys on the numerical keypad to create that illusion I'm so good at conjuring.
November 6, 1998
Wouldn't it be funny if we buried the statue of liberty and all dressed in ape suits when John Glen landed back on earth?
I dream of all the freedom mankind could have if only we could enhance monkeys brains and turn them into a slave labor force somehow. My job, definitely for a monkey. But then I realize that I don't think mankind wants freedom. You give people free time and what do they do with it? Watch TV and play golf. Nope, I'm convinced that humans enjoy frustration in labor, which gives them something to complain/talk about. As you get older, complaining about your job grows tiresome, so you get married, then have kids, so you can complain about them to your buddies you sneak off with to have a beer.
But assuming we could make computer enhanced monkey brains and assuming mankind could live with itself having to find interesting things to do, I still don't think it would work. Sooner or later, monkey rights activists.
If it all did go along, though, soon everyone would be happy. The monkeys would take over the world and enslave humanity, making us do monkeys work. Then Joe Average could walk into the office every Monday morning and say to his cubicle mate, "these monkeys are real slave drivers, huh?" Then they could talk about how they would have make computer enhanced octopi instead, thus proving their superior intellect to all their slave-mates. That would certainly impress a monkey or two. That guy might get promoted.
November 10, 1998
I'm currently having another borderline anxiety attack here at work. It feels like there's a weight on my chest and I have to work really hard to breathe. I thought it might be something else, but when I went outside for lunch, I felt fine again. I come back to my desk, I have to concentrate on staying calm. I think my body's trying to tell me that I really hate this "job". Like I need my body telling me something I already know.
I believe I have also pinpointed my general dissatisfaction with temp work. It's like traveling through time. You see, where I'm at right now, the most valuable thing I ever did was take a typing class in high school. I could have been doing this five years ago. Its as if the last half decade of my life has counted for naught and brought me to this hell.
All this malcontent gives me lots of time to think of what I could be doing rather than this. Just about every day, I check the classifieds looking for another job.
November 11, 1998
A funny thing happened today at work. For the first time since I first began working here and had that green, go-getter attitude, I had a ton of things to do. It's some kind of deadline time around here and John called in sick, so everyone is piling the work up on me. I thought to myself, "My God! A day may go by without me going into a netrance." But the Lord works in mysterious ways. The system we use crashed about an hour ago, and the tech people say it might...MIGHT... be working again today. So now, not only can I goof off, but I'm justified in doing so.
November 12, 1998
Today this annoying old bitch that talks like a chicken clucks told the same story eight fucking times to people around her or people on the phone. Apparently, she heard on the radio this morning about dolls that you can teach to talk and if you put two of these dolls in a room together they'll talk to each other. Then she would always throw in her joke, "I'll bet if you leave the room, they say mean things about you." She laughed harder every time at her own joke. America must be destroyed.
Fagatron2093
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