Squee!

You're a True Punk. You know that punk isn't all
about studded jackets and mohawks. If you're
political, you're actually informed. Most of
the stuff you love is from before the 80s,
though you know bands like Fugazi kept the
spirit going.


You Know Yer Indie. Let's Sub-Categorize.
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(no subject)

So work is generating lots of little crack monkeys who are dancing on top of my head while trying to suction my brains out of my ears. My head hurts, most people are tense, the other people are trying really hard to be chipper and inclusive, and I have far too much progesterone in my bloodstream to put up with this fucking shit.

Slimey D is at it again. Today he oozed by to whisper to me that "marketing is shooting another video in the lab. And they're set up right by your bench!" Like he's trying to wind me up, or something. I said thanks, but that's okay. I had to design primers anyway. That's all at the desk, not at the bench. He slithered off, visibly disappointed.

Baking cookies tomorrow will be Fun and Therapeutic. virginmartyr1 must entertain me with sordid (if fictional) stories about her exploits with mysassypants during college.

In other news, I looked at a draft (like, a fourth draft) of a Spike story from a month or so ago. Contrary to my opinion at that time, it does not suck the paint off a barn wall. I believe I shall clean it up and post it this weekend. La di da.