Do the world a favor today -- shoot an alarm clock manufacturer

I was an hour late for work tonight.

At these times, I wish I didn't live within five minutes -- walking -- of my workplace. Because there's really no good excuse for being an hour late, other than maybe if I was sick to the point of vomiting demons.

Or, you know, oversleeping.

Did you know that if you shut your alarm off and throw the clock itself deep under your covers while convinced you are dreaming, it still means that you have shut your alarm off and (most likely) will not actually wake up on time?

Yeah, I didn't realize it either, but go figure. Therefore, I am stanky and unshowered -- in keeping with the usual "Fuck! I'm late! FUCK!" routine -- and feeling insecure, as one often does when one can't exactly recall whether or not one applied underarm de-stencher before setting off for the office at a brisk pace.

I'll just pretend I'm an impeccably groomed, carefree, barefoot hippie.

Hey! Hey! Don't knock denial and disillusionment. Without it, my insanity would be much more criminal in nature.

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Night Boss has created a tradition.

Every night, he goes to the dining facility for "midnight chow," that most elegant of meals.

Every night, he asks me if I'd like to go first, and I say, "No," because I am usually writing a post at that time, and enjoy having the office all to myself for a little while.

Every night, he says, "Would you like me to bring you anything back?" and I answer, "An apple and a Dr Pepper, please." Because I am a strange one, I am.

And every night, upon his return, he looks at me and says, in his ever-monotone, inexpressive, put-a-velociraptor-to-sleep voice: "Well, I've got good news and I've got bad news." At first, I would look at him expectantly, and he would say something to the effect of, "I forgot your apple," or even worse, "I forgot your Dr Pepper." (NOOOOO!!!!!) Either way, I would humor him with the approriate response, and the shift continued.

I didn't realize how much of a tradition it had actually become until the lieutenant (whom we shall henceforth refer to as Alterna-Boss, for he is certainly no run-of-the-mill boss) joined our shift. Alterna-Boss thought that Night Boss' little "Good news, bad news" shtick was the funniest thing since lighting farts, and after a couple of days, he would scamper excitedly over to my side of the office to watch the situation unfold. What would the good news be? What about the bad news? How bad would it actually be? The suspense was killing him!

So Night Boss, now that he had an audience and never forgot to bring me my items of nutrition, began to come up with more and more inane "good news" and "bad news."

• "Well, I got your apple ... but there's a tiny spot on it."
• "I got your Dr Pepper ... but it's not very cold."
• "I got your apple ... but it's a little bit lopsided."
• "I got your Dr Pepper ... but the pull-tab is kind of bent."
• "I got your apple ... but it's not shiny."

Alterna-Boss always sat there watching, hands on knees with anticipation, eyes darting back and forth between Night Boss and me, waiting to see my reaction, which was inversely proportionate in enthusiasm to whatever the news was, i.e.:

• "No!"
• "Oh my GOD! WHY???!!!"
• "Not LOPSIDED! It's the CURSE!"
• "Bent pull-tabs are BAD LUCK!"
• "How DARE you bring me a NON-SHINY apple! Get that out of my sight!"

Etc.

How out of control has this gotten? Well, Night Boss went on leave a couple of days ago. Replacement Boss is here to, um, replace, him. Alterna-Boss is going on leave tomorrow, but before leaving work, accompanied Replacement Boss to midnight chow.

Replacement Boss returned to the office a little while ago. He looked at me, and he said, "Well, I've got good news, and I've got bad news."

AAAAAGHHH!

Now you see what I mean when I say that we bring new meaning to "stir crazy." As in, it used to mean, "a little frustrated as a result of being cooped up in one place for an extended amount of time," but now it means, "nuts enough to make up games which the mentally-handicapped would reject on account of said games being 'too retarded,' as a result of being cooped up in one place for an extended amount of time."

At least I've got my health.

Ha!

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In closing ...

A year ago today, Husband and I done got hitched. And also very, very, very drunk. Congratulate us for sobering up the next day! Oh, and staying married for a whole fucking YEAR -- also possibly a good thing!