The men in my life are surely the most twisted individuals.

My dear Jonesy decided to give his roommate a gift that would just keep on giving - a blowup doll of a very fat, very hideously deformed woman. Truly, a gorgeous and sensitive Christmas gift. It was greatly appreciated - in the box and hidden away.

Jonesy was sad. And who wouldn't be? His thoughtful gift was left unopened and unloved. Surely she must be cramped in there, he thought. Maybe his roommate was just busy at work and unable to get her "ASSembled". Jonesy, being the considerate seed of evil that he is, decided to help.

His roommate arrives home on a Sunday, dragging and tired from a long weekend. The one thing he needs now to relax prior to beginning yet another ardous work week is a nice, hot shower. He prepares himself, pulls back the curtain and finds, to his shocked and half asleep horror, the Blowup Creature from Hell blown up to her massive proportions and awaiting him in the stall.

For his painstaking efforts, Jonesy was punched (sometimes love hurts, I hear) and the Hell Doll was taken into the living room where his roommate quickly, loudly and with lots of creative verb usage took a small axe (yes, they keep sharp weapons everywhere - murderous bachelors) to the one woman that wanted to be his dearest and nearest.

I wish I could have seen this. Alas, I only got to hear about it. But, I was able to meet his dearly departed when, sitting in my gimp closet and playing UT, her deflated body was flung on top of my head. Oh, the horror. I'm scarred for life and must now plot revenge.

I awoke this morning unable to move, but at least blessedly warm and with my comfy pillows. Earlier last night, Sam kept waking me up by grabbing my pillow and pulling it out from under my head and summarily laying upon it. He has his own pillow, but apparently that is not good enough. I have created a monster.

At six a.m. the alarm went off and I found myself frozen in place. Having abandoned thieving my pillows (after numerous attempts), Sam decided instead that I made an excellent pillow, portable heater, and living chew toy. What fun to lay upon me, he must have thought, and to listen to the wheezing commence as I attempted to breathe while my body was compressed to a mere 1/4 of an inch and coated liberally in shed dog fur. As he was nipping at my feet, my life flashed before my eyes and I pictured my family members finding my body the width of a sheet of paper beneath a pile of fur and a look of terror crossed with that of a sneeze plastered permanently on my face.

I can see the tombstone now:

Our beloved daughter,
killed by 75lbs of fat fuzzy love.
Why did she feed him Cheetos?

In yet another attempt to make the indentured servants (oops, pardon me, EMPLOYEES) of this company feel valued and appreciated, the A/C has been disengaged the entire day. The cubicle now resembles a sauna and I have lost more water from my pores today than I usually can take into my body in an entire week. I am positive this is an act of office guerilla warfare being engaged upon us peons by the sadistic corporate bigwigs in the hope that the majority of us will die from dehydration and internal organ failure before our yearly raises can be placed into effect. Said Enemy is esconced in another section of the building that has it's own zone control for air conditioning whereupon they are wallowing in glorious cool comfort and mocking our pain. I know this after walking by the door that opens into their privileged domain just as one of the ranks of the Enemy was emerging. I was engulfed in a cool, sweet and tantalizing breeze. I would have attempted to squeeze into that wondrous sanctuary, but am positive they have armed guards about that would inflict some strange corporate Chinese Water Torture upon me before scheduling more overtime onto my already lengthy work week.

I have a singing hamster on my desk.

Pause for Quick Background: I'm sure I have mentioned this Kung Fu Fighting singing creature that has a little stick that he swirls as he vibrates around on the desk. Everyone keeps making him sing - they sneak over here, press the button and run away. But, as much as I despise this little creature dancing every five minutes, I can't get rid of him because he was a gift from my mother. Besides, he is cute.

Back to Our Originally Scheduled Program: I came to work to find my hamster lying in a pool of blood. Fake red construction puddle blood with tiny little red foot prints cut out and tracking away to the end of my desk. Papa San was lying on his side, his batteries strewn about like little hamster innards and a sign hung above his mechanical corpse that read "No more Kung Fu Fighting for this Papa San!". I was told by my coworker (the one with Vile Flu) that "Papa Sans Kung Fu was bad".

Ladies and Gentlemen! My coworkers! Let's give them a round of applause.

Of course, to further irk them all I resurrected Papa San and he is once again on the desk. His Kung Fu has gotten better and beware those that try to defile him for revenge will be sweet and come with Ramen Noodles!

There is a plague carrier at work and his cubicle is beside mine. Generally, I really like this coworker as he is intelligent, great to talk to, has a nice sense of humor and doesn't attempt to kill me or report me when I pull pranks on him. However, until he rids himself of this vile creature called Flu, he is my arch nemesis. I stole a bottle of Lysol and sprayed every facet of his desk last night. The keyboard, mouse, drawers, seat, telephone, paperwork. The list goes on. I was laying in wait, attempting to be as subtle and innocent as possible, so that I could spray him as well as soon as he returned. Unfortunately, my boss (using some strange ESP only he has managed to evolve since I came to work for him) deduced my purpose and took away my only weapon against this insidious evil! Fear not! For I go now in search of plastic wrap in which to encase his desk and person as soon as he arrives at 11am. Bubble boy will be born.