"Freaky animal things," as
Rec lifted from
Thirty-two minutes until I can plausibly leave work. God, I'm such a wart. A wart on a sloth that is sitting on the log of humanity.
You know what I want? I want to come back to work in three months, when my leave is up, and have them tell me: "We think you'll be a great [insert exciting new job here]! Here's your own office! And a ten-thousand dollar raise! You'll mostly be working alone, doing your own thing--just let us know if you need anything!" Yeah.
Twenty-nine minutes.
ETA: I don't know what I was thinking. Make that a twenty-thousand dollar raise. Anything more than that and my liberal white slacker protestant work ethic guilt would probably swamp me.
ETA 2.0: Another link, of the 10 worst album covers of all time. One of those things that's been around forever, probably, but...did I mention I am bored?