So I woke up at 5 in the morning in a panic.
The Philadelphia Eagles Football Club released kicker David Akers in what could be considered an awful nightmare. In this nightmare, OMS pleaded with anyone who would listen: THE COWBOYS NEED A KICKER AND YOU'RE LETTING ONE OF THE BEST ESSENTIALLY WALTZ ON DOWN TO DALLAS!
Perhaps the ol' subconscience is reminding me, again, that I have absolutely no power and no say in anything I do at the ol' day job? Awesome. I don't need to trade David Akers in my dream to know this.
Oh. And I also know that the empty carton of milk doesn't go back in the fridge. Oopsies.
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So I'm officially Tim from the Office, complete with looks to the sky and camera.
"What happened to my computer?" said Gareth on the other side of my cubicle wall.
"(Looks to sky. Rolls eyes. Stares," said OMS.
"Something's funny. Red flags flying all around. Somebody's been missing with it."
I'm this close to phoning him and saying, "C*ck."
END SCENE.
End parenthesis, too.
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