To You

Dear Readers,

I am greateful to you for indulging my reports from my desk. Thank you for your clever comments and your hilarious emails. I have been sick lately and have not been to work as often as I had initially agreed. This bothers me.

When I am at work, I pray that the Taliban confuses this place for a center of Korean Missionaries, just so I can get out of doing things that I get paid to do. But when I am home sick, I find myself deeply bored. I put a moratorium on my magazine reading because I end up just feeling like shit about not having that Corvette, the six pack abs, the modern, pre-fab dwelling, Bose noise cancelling headphones, GAP anything, the career of the superstar waif, an ass you can build a bridge on, and all that other shine-o-la that will complete me.

Laying in bed sweating to the sound of my own wheezing is great coneptual art, maybe for Yoko, but not for me. And although it is fun, shopping on line does get extremely boring as well, especially when I discover that once again, I have amassed a pile of things, clothes, and gadgets that don't bring me any closer to Nirvana, or Courtney Love, in fact, I'm more resentful because I have to keep finding places to put them, keep having to wash them, keep having to keep them charged, keep having to upgrade.

I am in-between netflix DVDs, which means I have to suckle on Baby Boom one more time, or maybe Lebowski.

And another thing, Fuck all this soup bullshit. Where is my therapeutic corn dog?

I have nothing to report other than the dust bunnies near my bed that remind me of the Mayflower - the moving van, not the boat. I'm sorry.

I am willing myself to wellness. Please bear with me.

I will file more reports from the office shortly.

Your Grateful Worker Bee,

Employee835