Workity. Blah.

Today started like any other work day. I woke up at 8:00 to the lovely works of an 19th century composer (coming from my clock radio - I do not, in fact, employ a symphony to wake me up each morning), rolled out of bed (er, rolled out of mattress), turned on my bedroom light to begin the unclouding process and put on my work clothes. And by "put on my work clothes," I mean "threw on a pair of shorts." Then, as I do every morning, I walked into the living room and turned on my TV and immediately wondered why I watch the Today Show every morning. This was followed by my daily pill-popping routine of a multivitamin, a Claritin and a Cod Liver Oil tablet. Why do I take Cod Liver Oil? I have absolutely no idea. I had read that it's good for you and I was bored in the vitamin aisle. Then I poured a bowl of cereal, ate the bowl of cereal, brushed my teeth, swigged some Listerine, slipped on my flip flops, put on a t-shirt and headed off for work.

I was actually quite productive when I first got here. I replied to a couple of e-mails, fixed a couple of things, entered a couple of things, etc, etc. Then work slowed down. Then work stopped. When I worked for the PR agency, work never stopped. Even if you were lucky enough to find yourself with fifteen minutes of downtime, you were supposed to use that time pestering journalists and asking them to write stories for you. Here, if the work stops, you simply don't have shit to do. Now, I like when this happens, obviously. I e-mail my friends, waste time reading sports websites, write on this blog (when the mood strikes me). It's nice. However, every minute that passes where you're not doing work makes you lazier and lazier. I haven't done a thing for over an hour. Now, if someone does need me to do something, it's not only going to annoy me, it might even piss me off. "How dare you ask me to do work?! Can't you see I'm reading on Page Six how Lindsay Lohan's mom is a huge bitch?!" So yeah. Sometimes it's better to be extremely busy from the second you get here til the second you leave. And the day goes by a lot faster that way. So here I sit. Bored. I've exhausted all of the websites I go to (which only numbers about seven or so) and I think I'm done playing with my phone. So....uhhh....there you have it. My point? Excuse me, this isn't Vanity Fair. I don't need a point. Now get back to work.

(side note: I do love my phone. For the first two days, I was terrified to even touch it. Since then I've lightened up. Probably not a good thing, considering Friday night, mid-text message, I dropped it on the floor of a bar (after doing a five second, two-handed "oh god no!" juggle when I lost my grip on it). And Sunday I managed to fling queso all over it while hastily (drunkenly) trying to get a chip into my mouth. It's only a matter of time before I drop it in a toilet.)

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