It is now officially Day Six without smoking. Excuse me. I have to go dance around my office for a minute - with a mallet.

[Princess Vespa given a gun]
"I ain't shooting this thing, I hate guns. [Her hair gets singed by a laser] My hair, he shot my hair! Son of a bitch!" [Begins blasting]



The other night I decided to entertain myself (and distract myself from wanting a cigarette) by running psychotically around the house with my dog, Sam. I stole his toy and tore off at a mad dash - through the bathroom, guest room, living room, kitchen, over the counter, into my room, and so on and so forth. On my third (THIRD!) time doing this, I slammed my foot into the toilet.

"My brains...are going into my feet!"

I wasn't anywhere near that toilet so I have absolutely no idea how I hit it. It must have moved. I have an anthropomorphic toilet! I need to call Broadway. No, no! I need to call Stephen Spielberg! I'm sure he would turn it into a heartrending movie.

I can see it now:

"Coming soon to theatres - the tale of a boy and his faithful toilet. [Cut to little Timmy, crying and clinging to the porcelein throne] 'No Mommy, no! It's my first potty! Don't make me leave him!'. Their trials, their tribulations! Coming to theatres soon."

...or not.

"I'm a mog: half man, half dog. I'm my own best friend!"

So, I stubbed my toe and it started bleeding everywhere. How can a stubbed toe bleed so much? I had to prop up my foot and wrap it in toilet paper for ten minutes. Ten minutes! Accursed toe. I know it was cursing me the entire time - 'Stupid wench. Can't even walk straight.'

Screw you, toe! I have nine more of your kind.

"Thank you for pressing the self-destruct button."

Now my toe is bandaged and mummified. It looks three times larger than normal. It's rivaling the Big King Toe in size.

"Why didn't someone tell me my ass was so big?"

Aside from the mutant toe, I stopped by the art store to price a few frames for the dragon I'm sketching for VG (spoiled brat!). Ah, sweet ambrosia to my eyes - Art Guy was there. This man looks like a very scruffy, toss me in the hay and call me Suzy, diety. Eye candy only, though. Where's my fan? Is it hot in here?

"What the hell was that noise?"

"That was my virgin-alarm. It's programmed to go off before you do!"

Today is the fourth day that I have gone (so far) without a cigarette.

"Who are you?"

"We are three wise men."

"Well, what are you doing creeping around a cow shed at two o'clock in the morning? That doesn't sound very wise to me."

The first day that I quit smoking I was five seconds from homicidal the entire time that I was awake - which wasn't often, actually.

"Excuse me. Are you the Judean People's Front?"

"Fuck off! We're the People's Front of Judea!"

I've switched to green tea since coffee has been giving me such strong cravings. As a result, not only is the nicotine being purged from my body, but the caffeine as well. I think my heart has stuttered and practically stopped from the shock of it all...and, yes, the oxygen.

"All right, but apart from the sanitation, medicine, education, wine, public order, irrigation, roads, the fresh water system and public health, what have the Romans ever done for us?"

"Brought peace."

"Oh, peace - shut up!"

The second day wasn't that hard at all. I dragged VG to the stores and forced everyone to eat my cooking for two days in a row as payment. If I have to suffer, everyone will suffer.

"We are the Judean People's Front crack suicide squad! Suicide squad, attack!" [they all stab themselves]

"That showed 'em, huh?"

As the day at work progresses, my mental state is sure to decline. I'm surrounded by smokers here. The best I can do is hobble along and freeze to death on a walk during my breaks.

"What's the point of fighting for his right to have babies, when he can't have babies?"

"It is symbolic of our struggle against oppression."

"It's symbolic of his struggle against reality."

Oh, dear God, I'm going to go bloody mad!



"Stwike him, Centuwion. Stwike him vewy wuffly!"

Mid-Day Update:

Is it wrong to try and stab my coworkers with sharpened stirring straws? Smokers do not want one of their own to go astray. The last time I quit smoking, the ear pincher made little cigarettes dance on my keyboard or smuggled them into my desk drawers when I least expected it.

"Here! I've got an idea: Suppose you agree that he can't actually have babies, not having a womb - which is nobody's fault, not even the Romans' - but that he can have the *right* to have babies."

"Good idea, Judith. We shall fight the oppressors for your right to have babies, brother... sister, sorry."

I think I almost killed a coworker that asked if I could email him an entire program. You want me to e-mail you Microsoft Office and everything that entails? Did your brain squelch out of your ears and go to eat Chinese for lunch thereby leaving you completely devoid of the ability to use reason or has it gone on an extended (read: permanent) vacation?



Deep breaths, Bug, deep and calming breaths...

"Now, fuck off!"

"How shall we fuck off, O Lord?"

I'm still trying to wake up. I'm too tired to even attempt to be witty.

"Well if it isn't Nathan Christopher Daypring Askani'son Summers... or are you just calling yourself Priscilla now?"

I knew it was going to be one of those days when I couldn't get my car door open this morning. It took a few minutes until I realized I was using my house key on the car lock.

Directly before that, I missed a step on the stairs and almost took flying lessons. 'Just miss the ground!' - thanks Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Where would I be without you?



I put two packets of coffee in the machine at work. It's darker than the abyss and I'm still yawning.

"Pardoneth me, fair lady, but dost thou have any Grey Poupon?"

I think it needs more caffeine. I don't know if this is possible. The cup is shaking on it's on voalition on my desk like it's experiencing some type of seismic tremor reserved only for porcelein. I need something entertaining to wake me up.

Deadpool: "Speaking of games, you ever play Street Fighter?"

Shadowcat: "As if."

Deadpool: "SHORYUKEN!"



Sadly, no one else is in the office at this hour so I can't torment anyone. Until then, I'll just save up all of my sleepy aggression until Management pops by - which they are bound to do at some point. Either them or the Ear Pincher. I need to amass a tire iron, some duct tape and a taser to welcome their inevitable arrival at my desk.

"Yay, now is fighty time, fighty time, blood, blood, blood!"



*swoon* Ah, Deadpool. Doesn't he say the most romantic things?

There are some incredibly strange people in my office.

"Eating kittens is just plain... plain wrong! And no-one should do it, ever!"

Is it a pre-requisite for an office to hire as many neurotic people as possible? Do they receive some type of award for resembling a psychiatric ward more than a place of business?

"We're all doin' it, chum. That's what we do. We do it. Do what? Therein lies the mystery!"

Yesterday, I had a co-worker come up behind me and pinch the tops of my ears. With as much dignity as I could muster (sitting there with someone pinching my ears and muttering to himself) I asked politely what he was doing. Actually, I said, "What the hell are you doing?" and, given the circumstance, I think that was pretty reserved.

"Step one; we need an archenemy. The most powerful, deadly, and brilliant criminal mastermind we can find. Someone who will burn his fetid midnight oil hatching up a thousand plots to annihilate us. Someone within easy commuting distance would be a plus."

He said he was trying to make me look like an elf. Why do I work with this person?! I flailed at him rather ineffectually in an attempt to remove my ears from his sticky fingers. Maiming him would have been preferable, but I want to keep my job.

"When you get in bed with evil incarnate, it always takes the covers."

This is the most incestuous office I have ever worked in. Every single person here (at least it seems that way) is sleeping with one another. I swear, I'm going to get to work early or stay late and stumble across a Pod Orgy.

"Hey! You in the pumps! I say to you - stop being bad!"

Pasty, out of shape coworkers in a heap amidst the copier and paper shredder, reports tossed willy nilly like hay and the odor of pen ink and pocket protectors in the air like some strange paper pushing pheromone.

Arthur: "Maybe I should stop being so anal retentive."

The Tick: "Retain that anus! One day it's fruit may be the only thing that stands between us and total oblivion!"

I'm also curious as to why I found a post-it note on my desk the other day that read, "Beware the yard gnomes. They're watching through the walls."

"And so, may Evil beware and may Good dress warmly and eat lots of fresh vegetables."

...help me...

I went window shopping for furniture yesterday. Specifically, I went shopping for a couch.

"Remind me why I do this again."

"Rotten eggs and the safety of mankind."

Window shopping is such a masochistic pleasure. After the third store, I stumbled upon the couch. It was perfect. I sat upon it and was immediately transported to heaven. This couch was better than any man could ever be - it was the perfect width and length and, most importantly, it didn't collapse into a heap of sobbing, seeping goo when I kicked it. And the size! Oh la la.

"How big can it be?"

It was the largest sectional (with a chaise! *swoon*) I have ever seen. Truly, a work of gargantuan art that had come from the mind of a very unendowed man. And, like most art, it was gorgeous to look upon and sit on (For example *cue 50's cheesey sales music*, the Mona Lisa can not only be used as an exquisite visual masterpiece, but also a booster seat) and impossible to purchase. When I looked at the price tag, something shriveled up and died inside of my wallet.

"You should be running."

That couch was $1700.00 dollars. For that kind of money, it had better take the place of every battery operated appliance in my house and the need for a flesh and blood man as well.

"Second date, no tongue!"

If I decide to fork out this much dough on a piece of wood and fabric it had better bring me good fortune, great sex, and neverending back support along with the ability to withstand the loving menstrations my dog applies to everything I value.

"I'm fireproof, you're not."

Obviously, I haven't purchased it as of yet. The most unnerving part (aside from the price) about couch shopping are the sales-vultures. These creatures do not count as human. The minute you walk inside the store they swoop down upon you, the blood of their previous victims still present on their talons.

"Didn't I kill you already?"

VG and I are quite lucky we escaped alive. Though, I'm not sure if we remain physically and emotionally intact after being attacked by every sales person within a twenty mile radius.

"How you doing back there, Ivan?"

"If I still had legs, I'd kick your ass!"

I must give some serious credit to VG. He verbally backhanded the last salesman we ran into.

Smarmy Salesman: "[Insert long and irritating introductory sales pitch]...If I can help you with anything..."

VG: [Stops for a moment, stares, interrupts] "No." [Continues walking away]

Smarmy Salesman: "Or not. My..name..is...Richard..." [Voice trails off]

I think the poor man almost started crying. VG's tone was that of "Vile bug, away from me or else, for I am wearing soccer cleats and you are small and insignificant." Just one little word and I almost broke out into song and dance in the store until I realized I wasn't Barbara Streisand. The world gave a collective sigh of relief when I shut my trap and I drove home dejected and obsessing over a couch that I could never possibly afford with good conscience.

"My mom always says..."

"It's not...it's not that easy. Plus, you're nine. You're not old enough to be giving me advice."