I’m a little tired so my powers of estimation might be a tad off, but I’d say I’ve written in the past few days approximately nine hundred and seventy-five thousand six hundred and forty-three little one-paragraph advertising squibs for the winners of various categories in this annual promotional-contest thingy at my job, and then today spent another 37.6 hours doing data entry inputting the squibs and related info into a database. Even worse, yesterday as I wrote the last of the ad paragraphs I came down with a near-fatal case of Carpenters-themed earworm
so my brain kept relentlessly humming Why do birds suddenly appear – why do birds suddenly appear – why do birds suddenly appear
and as I stomped toward the breakroom for my ten thousandth cup of coffee I sincerely wanted to mutter “Fuck
the fucking birds” but that would’ve been utterly unprofessional so I said nothing.
But it’s all over now, for a whole ’nother year. And it could’ve been worse; today, when I finished the task I went home and crashed for a nap. Last year, when I finished the task I went home and worked on a phone-sex line.
(Damn. There's spooky nostalgia in reading a year-old comment thread. And look at all those great one-liners I never had room to fit in the resulting story.)
(P.S. This week's Advocate piece is about another bit of useless think-of-the-children legislation.)