Afternoon Jitters
We just had a completely random internet burp. I couldn't connect to any web pages for almost two hours, but it seems to have fixed itself. Which is fine, because I would have just been reading LJ and my email instead of working, but there *are* some things I need to do for work over the internet, and had I had to do those, it would have been annoyingly inconvenient. Or something. Don't mind me, I'm babbling.
Welcome to my friends list, liveoak and countblastula.
I have managed, somehow, to clear a small but significant portion of my desk off. This is a veritable metric fuckton of data entry. My eyes are starting to swim in my skull. My nerves are starting to frazzle and I feel nauseous and I'm not quite sure why.
Oh wait, yes I am. It's because a) the Ringo concert is tonight (finally!) and I want to be able to go home NOW and get ready for it; and b) because of my random yet not so random paranoia.
In other news, this is hands-down the best damn brownie I have ever had. It's got crunchy little peanut butter chips in it and a creamy kind of glaze drizzled on the top and it tastes like it's right out of the oven although it obviously isn't. Holy crap. It's a veritable chocolategasm. I'm really really glad I took two.
Meh. Back to that pile o' data entry.
Ringo Countdown: Five hours! Eeeeeeeee!!
Welcome to my friends list, liveoak and countblastula.
I have managed, somehow, to clear a small but significant portion of my desk off. This is a veritable metric fuckton of data entry. My eyes are starting to swim in my skull. My nerves are starting to frazzle and I feel nauseous and I'm not quite sure why.
Oh wait, yes I am. It's because a) the Ringo concert is tonight (finally!) and I want to be able to go home NOW and get ready for it; and b) because of my random yet not so random paranoia.
In other news, this is hands-down the best damn brownie I have ever had. It's got crunchy little peanut butter chips in it and a creamy kind of glaze drizzled on the top and it tastes like it's right out of the oven although it obviously isn't. Holy crap. It's a veritable chocolategasm. I'm really really glad I took two.
Meh. Back to that pile o' data entry.
Ringo Countdown: Five hours! Eeeeeeeee!!