They finally left. Sweet zombie Jesus, I was ready to scale the cubicle walls and beat them all to death with the electric stapler.

AND FUCK. I just found a huge stupid typo and it's too late.

Goddamnit to hell.

Not a dealbreaker, just an -ing that should've been an -ed. I was just blind to it.

At least the end is in sight.

"I am a quick and independent learner"?

Judge Pants deserves to be unemployed.

I skimmed the cake talk. I love Ace of Cakes, even though I couldn't afford to buy one.

I'm dying for cake. Or cupcakes. Or maybe a brownie.

Judge Pants is pants. Doofus.

I was ready to scale the cubicle walls and beat them all to death with the electric stapler.

So... we're casting shrift as Milton, then?

I'm so freaking embarrassed.

I used to pay my rent with the idea of a paperless office. Step out of the content management arena, and I'm drowning in paper.

I'm trying not to be--I have dual monitors, and I nicked a bigger secondary one for just that reason--I can have three apps visible at once.

I get printouts left at my desk by people who also emailed the link to the soft copy. I'm a slut for copying pasting. Paper, not so good.

I'm sorry about global warming. It seems to be my fault.

I'm finding I'm not as tempted by the cupcake talk as normal. Which is weird. Lunch was half a black bean panini and a pluot. Like, no animal died for the privilege of nourishing me.

Even more scarily, I think that today's Knott's Berry Farm cookies will be skipped in order to finish some fruit salad.

sara, random stuff happens. Just breathe.

The lovely part is that there is a chance I could correct it.

Except it doesn't recognize my password.

Figures.

Please note that there is a reason why the only time I've done karaoke was at 3 o'clock in the morning in a foreign country while skulking in the back of the group the whole time, i.e., speaking parts only, please.