"It's the Whiskey Talkin', Not Me"

My co-worker -- the one who cracks the whip and keeps me motivated -- is on a job interview. I'm sipping coffee from a Styrofoam cup, calculating the cost of flying out to Seattle to find an apartment. I'm hoping my last day will be August 17, and I'll fly out then, but according to the calendar that doesn't give us much time.

This evening I'm off to the theatre to see a farce. But first I must fortify myself with caffeine and enthusiasm.

I think this office is sucking energy out through my nose. Maybe I should file an official complaint. Or maybe I should cut back on the Tapazole. I mean really, what do doctors (and by doctors, I mean physician assistants) know anyway? I bet thyroid is Latin for sucker.

Did you know I can juggle? Because I can. If my backup career as an egg donor falls through, I've always got street performer.