Things around the P.Net Corporation offices have been a little bit quiet since the Jackson trial ended yesterday. Frankly, I think it's because half of the staff now thinks it's safe to sleep with children and they have decided to exercise some of their vacation time at the local daycare. The rest of us just think that's plain sick. Not really for the children's sake but we're pretty pissed off that we didn't think of it first. So, most of us are stuck here with little to do but draw faces on the wall in crayon and beat up interns. Even that gets old after a while. We even tried combining the two and drawing on the interns while beating them up but that lost it's luster once we ran out of interns.
So, how do we pass the time then? Well, occasionally we'll light our accounting books on fire and sit around in a semi-camp like atmosphere, telling stories of the past, finding new ways to fund Middle Eastern terrorism, and doing lines of coke off places we shouldn't. Every now and again someone tries to pull out a guitar and sing "Kum Bay Yah" but we kill that crap pretty quick. We don't tolerate no hippie shit around here. If you want to wear your Birkenstocks and not shower, go somewhere else. I think Berkeley is hiring, but it doesn't matter -- you're too lazy to hold down a job anyway.
Still, passing the time is like passing kidney stones, difficult if you don't quite know what you're doing. Since we're still trying to blow through all that venture capital money they gave us, we bought a giraffe for the office. That little guy is so cute, running around and sticking his head in everyone's office. We got him hooked on uppers one week and, wow, if you weren't there, you missed out. I think we're still putting the ceiling tiles back in place. Unfortunately, someone pushed him out an eighth floor window, so Ted (that was our secret code name for the giraffe) is no longer with us. It turns out that some idiot from Sales mistakenly thought that it was "Push A Giraffe Out A Window" week. He even claimed to see a memo. So we wrote a memo. The title of it was "Push That Idiot That Killed The Giraffe Out Of The Window" week. Long story short, he's no longer with us and I am sleeping with his widow.
We set our research scientists from Building #291 on the task of reviving and rebuilding Ted, nursing him back to health using the miracles of science and poor planning. Operation Revive Ted was in effect. Day-to-day progress was slow at first and after the first month, all we had was one of Ted's legs working again. It was kind of creepy watching that thing hobble around, something akin to an outtake of Pet Semetary. Still, Ted was living and it was giving us something to do. He didn't really have much a chance, though. In hindsight, shooting up the leg with daily doses of heroin wasn't much help. It was, however, amusing and therefore helped us pass the time.
So, in lieu of a media circus following a celebrity trial, what ever will we do to fill our meaningless lives with hope? Will we care about some teenager who got lost in Aruba? Nope. The world has plenty of other teenagers and it's company policy to discriminate against white people. What about the fact that Pac-Man turns 25? He's a washout, a has-been, still trying to relive his glory days, much like your father when he sleeps with your girlfriend. It's just pathetic, really. Who really knows what passes for a good time around here. We'll probably just throw some interns off the roof and see which one bounces higher.
So, how do we pass the time then? Well, occasionally we'll light our accounting books on fire and sit around in a semi-camp like atmosphere, telling stories of the past, finding new ways to fund Middle Eastern terrorism, and doing lines of coke off places we shouldn't. Every now and again someone tries to pull out a guitar and sing "Kum Bay Yah" but we kill that crap pretty quick. We don't tolerate no hippie shit around here. If you want to wear your Birkenstocks and not shower, go somewhere else. I think Berkeley is hiring, but it doesn't matter -- you're too lazy to hold down a job anyway.
Still, passing the time is like passing kidney stones, difficult if you don't quite know what you're doing. Since we're still trying to blow through all that venture capital money they gave us, we bought a giraffe for the office. That little guy is so cute, running around and sticking his head in everyone's office. We got him hooked on uppers one week and, wow, if you weren't there, you missed out. I think we're still putting the ceiling tiles back in place. Unfortunately, someone pushed him out an eighth floor window, so Ted (that was our secret code name for the giraffe) is no longer with us. It turns out that some idiot from Sales mistakenly thought that it was "Push A Giraffe Out A Window" week. He even claimed to see a memo. So we wrote a memo. The title of it was "Push That Idiot That Killed The Giraffe Out Of The Window" week. Long story short, he's no longer with us and I am sleeping with his widow.
We set our research scientists from Building #291 on the task of reviving and rebuilding Ted, nursing him back to health using the miracles of science and poor planning. Operation Revive Ted was in effect. Day-to-day progress was slow at first and after the first month, all we had was one of Ted's legs working again. It was kind of creepy watching that thing hobble around, something akin to an outtake of Pet Semetary. Still, Ted was living and it was giving us something to do. He didn't really have much a chance, though. In hindsight, shooting up the leg with daily doses of heroin wasn't much help. It was, however, amusing and therefore helped us pass the time.
So, in lieu of a media circus following a celebrity trial, what ever will we do to fill our meaningless lives with hope? Will we care about some teenager who got lost in Aruba? Nope. The world has plenty of other teenagers and it's company policy to discriminate against white people. What about the fact that Pac-Man turns 25? He's a washout, a has-been, still trying to relive his glory days, much like your father when he sleeps with your girlfriend. It's just pathetic, really. Who really knows what passes for a good time around here. We'll probably just throw some interns off the roof and see which one bounces higher.