Nominations and Lackluster Postings

My beach house calls to me...

Along the path of corporate servitude, many times we find ourselves in positions that do not facilitate the new transition paradigm of quality control within the business unit. If you actually thought that sentence made sense, then I feel for you...because you too are stuck in corporate America living the life of shame. They have brainwashed us to think and speak as they do. They are evil beings, with no soul and cold hearts. Do not be surprised if one day during a mangager meeting, they rip off their faces and there is a giant reptilian creature staring back at you, like that show V back in the 80’s. Your new snake manager will slither up to you, and make you analyze data on the upcoming spreadsheet for billing operations and conditions. Kill me now, oh snakey manager of pain!

Corporate life sucks, and this week my need to go against the will of The Man is increased, due to my inevitable and upcoming departure. I’m talking of course, about the Group Bunny Beach Bash, which is only 3 days away. At this point, my desire to do any productive work or to maintain my cover as a model employee has floated out the window, along with the hopes and dreams of my fellow coworkers. I can think of nothing except those golden sandy beaches, blue skies, and cold drinks. I picture the waves crashing against my legs as I take a stroll along the shore, breathing in the wonderful aroma of surf and fresh ocean air. I see myself lying on an extra large beach towel, well oiled and soaking up the sun’s rays like a piece of bacon on a sand skillet. I can almost feel the soothing water of the hot tub, soaking into my skin and relaxing me as I witness two chicks kissing in front of me.

The beach calls to me.

I close my eyes, and I can picture it. I can smell the hamburgers sizzling on the grill, and I can see the seagulls flying by. I can hear the laughter of children playing on the beach, and I can feel the tongue licking my nipple. If I concentrate hard enough, I begin to transport myself there…though only in spirit. I float through the air as a non-corporeal spirit, seeking the refuge of the holy beach land.

“WHERE IS THAT DATA? I NEED THAT SPREADSHEET FINISHED BY THIS FRIDAY SO I CAN SHOW IT TO THE VP!”

“Yes, sir Mr. Snakey I’ll have that for you by tomorrow, don’t worry. I’m on top of it, and I am following the new corporate guidelines for our new paradigm and business unit, Mr. Snakey. No need to get the whip, sir.”

He glares and slithers away, leaving me to rot in this cubicle of crap while filling out spreadsheets and pivot tables that don’t seem to really have any purpose, anyway. I hate it here. 3 days, and I make my escape. Anybody who wants to break out with me, meet me at the water cooler on Friday at 4:32pm. The password is OKI. Bring a friend, and make sure she’s hot.

Happy Hump Day!



PS: So Motherdear has informed me that I have been nominated for Best Comedic Blogsite by The Order of Brilliant Bloggers…I’m not sure if this is one of those “Who’s Who in American Students” scams, or if somebody out there actually thinks my blog is good enough to mention in a nomination. Either way, check out The Order of Brilliant Bloggers and put in a good word for me. Or vote for me…I’m not sure how the process works. Anyway, if you think my blog doesn’t suck, and if I have made you chuckle at least once before…then let others know of my comedic brilliance by casting a vote for me for Best Comedic Blogsite. If I win, I promise to put Coke in the drinking fountains, and an extra 15 minutes at recess. Vote for Pedro!

PPS: I don't think you can vote, yet. But keep an eye out for it! Remember, if I win: Group Bunny Blog party at my place!