I wrote a blog at the very beginning of... this blog, in which I described how much extra time I had at work to read fluffy magazines and gorge myself on useless information on what is in/out, and how to be thin if only I had time (**note: reading magazines is a valid excuse for not exercising), and other such inane, highly colorized and photoshopped shmaltz.
Since then, I have been promoted. NOW, I can read WEBCOMICS. Because it's more obvious if I have US Weekly stolen furtively from the lobby sitting in front of my keyboard, even if it's covered by a fancy-looking spreadsheet that I created for just such a purpose. I have given up on reading these magazines at work. Now I merely roll them up and sneak them home so that I can read them in bed and think "I wish I had a pair of excessively short black shorts that I could wear over sheer black nylons with 4" ankle boots and a see-through lace top. Why is my life so HARD?!" Then I roll over and continue eating bon-bons and lamenting my difficult, difficult life.
Seriously, though. I have had little enough to do over the last month that I have read the complete back archives of Questionable Content, and am working on the back logs of The Book of Biff. I have stalked every single one of you on facebook, added tons of friends from high school just to see what they've been up to, filed 6 month's worth of purchase orders, and read the leaked into to Midnight Sun. I've look up countless recipes that I'll prolly never make, pined after products on ebay that I'd feel too guilty to buy, and browsed nigh upon every list on oddee.com.
I am so full of useless information, saved links, and complete bull right now that I almost feel bad. Not bad enough to stop doing it, but bad enough to go home early most days. So hard!
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