Only a fool would judge

Only a fool would judge the worth of his department by the kind of holiday sweets they get. And I am that fool.

Because there's no God, I can tell you right out that this was not a great year. We were good, but we weren't Godchocolategood. And that's disappointing. I myself feel I put in a double-decker God year AND
a premium truffle damn year. But I'm the invisible force for good behind the network, so I get squat as an individual. But I digress.

We got only one Candies box. Only one isn't good, either. We usually average two and usually one of them is a two pounder. But, on the plus side, we didn't earn one of those crappy fruit ones. But, back on the negative, they stopped making those because they sucked.

It's our department dinner tonight. I used to organize drinking games where we'd all drink whenever someone did one of their idiosyncrasies. Like, if them would interrupt you and top your story with one of her own, you'd take a drink. If The Skinner spoke about the sea, you'd take a drink. Two if it had some bad overtones. You'd pretty much always drink twice. And that was sorta fun, but it made people self-conscious so we stopped it. Now we just roll our eyes and drink to get drunk.

And we got two plates of homemade goodies, which is 100% better than last year, so at least three somebodys thought we were doing okay. Now, almost everyone puts on a little weight eating this crap. But we've been so distraught over how lame the candy is that we've been eating even more. It's a vicious, chocolate cycle.

All in all, I think we're really going to have to haul ass this coming business year. Both to earn better candy next year and to, of course, drop the weight we've all put on eating this disgusting candy.


My Heart

Woowaaaweewaa. My Heart Stopped. Last night while watching The Negotiator, my chest got really tight. I don't know what it was. Stress, asthma, early warning of heart disease. Whatever it is, it was a little scary.

For those of you keeping score at home, that's the first time I've been afraid of dying in about a decade. You know, instead of welcoming it. So I guess that's a good thing. Chalk one up for therapy, eh.

In general I'm not scared of dying, but I don't want to go like that. Slow and agonizing. Hell no. So I started taking all my asthma medicine like a good boy. Albeit a good boy with underdeveloped lungs. And this morning I got an egg-white and cheddar sandwich on a whole wheat bagel. Not the healthiest fare, I know, but better than the pastrami breakfast burrito or grilled cheese with bacon I usually get.

I've been high and dry for a while, but one of the things I miss about porn is that lovely Sydney Moon. She's so pretty. Her eyes are sexier than most adult stars entire naked bodies. Her face is a work of art.

She's rumored to be a very bright woman. A psych major, working her way through school. Doesn't do penetration. Picked a decent stage name. And her body is incredible and all-natural.

I can't even see her eyes anymore because no one's classy enough to make a PG-13 site dedicated to her. You flesh-hungry bastards. God, I'm jealous. Sorry you had to see that.