Someone forgot to tell you I don't care.

As one would imagine, watching NCIS was a soul deadening affair. The premise, so much as I can gather, is that a group of meticulously groomed government super ninjas protect the United States’ borders from such things as international narco-traffickers and incredibly considerate kidnappers. Last night the director of NCIS was abducted and dragged to a private airport. Not a single hair on her head was out of place and her make-up was flawless. I could only assume that the government would be uninterested in acquiescing if the kidnapper made their director look like a gussied up tramp. I mean the woman stabbed someone in the neck while trying to escape, and not a single bead of sweat, and her suit remained perfectly uncrumpled. I thought the show was over right there. How can you top that? I’ll tell you how. By spiraling into a stupider and stupider story line and killing off the only character that made me tune in in the first place.

Yesterday I consumed more dim sum than any single person ought to. My co-worker and I met her husband and a former co-worker at the Empress Ballroom. I just love eating at a place called the Empress Ballroom. My co-worker and I share a mutual disaffection for our workplace. Why this very morning I had to re-write something in bright green magic marker because of the mounting evidence that my co-workers are unable or unwilling to read ballpoint script. Sometimes it just takes my breath away. I won’t even get into the door handle. Suffice to say, it has proven to be one of the most challenging pieces of engineering this office has ever faced. How many lawyers does it take to unlock a door? You don’t fucking wanna know.

I am beginning to think it is just stubbornness. Kinda like my cat. My cat knows it displeases me when he pulls out my sweaters and uses them as binkies, but he just keeps doing it. No amount of reprimand is sufficient. It is much the same way in an office environment. In a last ditch effort to cling to the final shred of my sanity I have decided to treat the carbies as I would any adorable domesticated animal with a mind of its own. I will stop short of cuddling and pats on the head, but I have invested in a squirt bottle, and I am keeping a rolled up piece of newspaper on the credenza next to my desk. Will this new strategy succeed? Pleonasm is my word of the day.