Cubic-hell

So, I'm sitting in my cubicle, eavesdropping on one of my coworkers' phone conversations. (I feel okay doing it, as I know they eavesdrop on me. As soon as I dial Robbo's work number, I feel a strange hush come over the office. The hens, they thrive on it.)

The man-child Bill, two cubicles over and one up from me, who could either be 17 or 52, is fighting with his girlfriend. He fights with her daily. I've determined from these conversations that he still lives in his mother's house, whom he considers to be a burden on him. Thus, I've spent the last few days trying to figure out which of his ladies he's yelling at on the other end of the phone every day around 3pm. Seeing as how he's talking about "chatting online with other guys," I'm guessing it's his broad.

Apparently, Bill's girlfriend broke his computer. This would not be a huge deal to most people, but imagine if you will: totalling your car-obsessed boyfriend's beloved Ferrari. Inadvertantly stepping on and killing your animal-rights-advocate boyfriend's tiny cute little kitten. And so on. It's that bad. I think at one point today, I heard Bill reference getting an erection about something on Windows XP. Or that could be because I've been drinking. Thanks Liz. Work rules.

Anyway!

There's no point to this post. I just wanted to let you all know that Bill is creepy, and he kind of looks like this guy:



Happy weekend, loves!