Wednesday, June 16, 2004

I May Be Dying

Hey Slacksters. Sorry for the lack of content from Ol' Fiedler. I only slept 45 minutes last night and here I am grinding away at the office again. Boy, good thing I did that whole college thing to make labels. And another thing...{tailing off into disgruntled whining, for at least 30 minutes}...raga, shmaga, raga, shmaga, grrr, grrr, diploma, damn, grunt, gonna be a lawyer, i'll show them, oooo! pretzels!, damn work, only 2 weeks left, grrr.

Anyway, I'm so out of it right now that I wouldn't be surprised to see Tim Russert burst into my office, do the "running man" and then explode into a million Skittles. Seriously, it's like I'm fartin' stars over here. And they want me to make labels. I think I would be more effective dreaming about labels and wishing that my dreams would come true. I'm worthless. Is this a musical table? Anyway, say a prayer for me. In 24 hours, this should all be over.


At 5:20 PM, Blogger DerelictSister said...

No silly. It's the daddy from Six Feet Under. You're welcome for the pretzels. They were a little stale, don't you think? Damn Yankus. Ha, that was unexpectedly punniferous.


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