Writer

Usually I say I write when people ask me what I do at work.
Actually, I write, I surf the web, I think about wasted time, I try to stop myself feeling bored, I laugh with the guys I work with, I resist the chiming calls from the back of my brain to just quit, just quit, just quit, just quit, just quit, justquitjustquitjustquit…

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The importance of being unimportant

Dear diary,

I was thinking about sticking my pencil into the little button-hole eyes of my boss who thinks he’s a big shot, treating me like some insignificant clerk that files meaningless papers over 9 hours a day, 365 days a year for more than 20 years, while I am actually the secret daughter of the President of the United States! But then again, he’s just a poor guy who doesn’t know the truth so I’ll continue to work through the night as I don’t want anyone to discover my hidden identity.

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Be careful who you deliver a pizza to.

While trapped in the chamber of his satanic majesty, I once again wondered if the pizza delivery field had been a worthwhile choice.

Then they sounded the horn, the chains grew taut about my limbs and I was hoisted into the air for the sacrifice.

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