Seriously.

I purchased this stapler. The shiny redness was $2 extra but they gave me a catalog and an order form and it seemed very necessary that I have that stapler? From that movie? About my new job? I also got a Post-It brand desk carousel. Awesome!

I'm bored. I am alone on the third floor and was given a list of vague and nearly impossible tasks, which I attempted to complete. Eventually in abject defeat I called for clarification and was given another set of tasks, like "Help Melvin arrange some chairs" and "explore the benefits website." Beginning to think I've been dropped off on the third floor, no computer, no phone, for the purpose of being taped, or for a dummy paycheck that involves money laundering, or so they can catch me sleeping. That would make writing snotty things on my blog a bad idea. Except: I'm not being watched. Ever.

Which has something to do with the Ponys and why I love seeing them. First of all, there is that song "let's get together and kill ourselves" and then there is all that wah-wah pedal and weak shredding. There are only a couple of decent songs, sure, but the filler in between is like a warm aural bath in a tub of 1993. On Saturday they played an encore and it was the song I have been waiting for; it is that sexy song, the one the boy sings about the girl he sees and doesn't talk to, and I have a crush on that song. Like how you arrange to see your crush and then you do and it's a low level buzz for hours afterward? That's how I felt after hearing the Song. I can't imagine how many times this sentence has been thought, or written, or blogged, but I also can't imagine not typing it: I want to make out with that song. Even more, I want that song to want to make out with me.

I am both hard at work and hardly working.