Monday, June 26, 2006


As usual, I am having a craptastic Monday. Continuing the discussion from last week, this will hopefully be another thing that falls by the wayside when the zombie menace rises. In fact, I hope that while I am doing my part to rid the world of the zombie threat, that I completely forget about day distinctions altogether. As of right now, the only things that structure my weeks are work (vs. no work), and karate. If it weren't for these things, I would have no idea what day of the week it was. Maybe it's better that way.

Another reason that my Monday sucks, in addition to it simply being a Monday, is that I have a ton of nervous energy. Normally I can direct this at things such as training and studying, but when I am trying to function as a useful member of society (which I probably don't do so well) it usually just plays out in bursts of foot tapping, singing, and other forms of twitching. There's not even anyone around for me to practice office stealthing on.... Geez... I'm going out of my mind. I'm going to draw some pictures of me destroying zombies to pass the time. I'll put them up in tomorrow's post.

Regarding Slash's thoughtful post (and Jerilyn's pre-post)... I'm not really sure how gas pumps work... this will be a question for the gas station the next time I fill up. Regardless, after the necropaylpse, gasoline will probably quickly run out (think any natural disaster). So maybe it's better that I can't afford a tank? Well, it would be fun while it lasted.


Anonymous Slash said...

Man, I totally have that problem. All day at work, my leg is bouncing like a meth with a quadruple mocha.

People like us are not cut out for the cubicle cage. We were meant to run free and shoot at the living dead.

Jerilyn, who originally pointed me toward this fabulous blog, get through our day by instant messaging each other constantly, to relieve the boredom. You are welcome to join in.

5:26 PM  
Anonymous Slash said...

That was supposed to be 'meth addict'.


5:26 PM  
Blogger Jerilyn said...

Oh yes, the instant messaging—our dirty little secret.

And don't let slash fool you, he is a meth.

1:37 PM  

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