Goodbye, Old Frenemy

So I threw out…er, bid adieu to chair spawn today. [History of this guy documented here, and then later here.]


He was barfing on my desk too much and I just couldn’t pay his medical bills (mostly mental health) any longer.


Plus he was upsetting the other desk denizens, namely the three kids below.




Unfortunately, as per the oozual, he gets the last laugh as my wrists are already aching without his soft cushiony touch.

How can you have such a stellar top half but be spewing garbage out your bottom half 25/8?!

Oh wait, I guess that describes most living organisms.

Maybe I will reconsider!!! The Hump Day is young, and hasn’t jaded itself into a corner yet.

[Well, it used to be. Now it’s not and chair spawn’s fate is secured. Alas(t call).]

Who smells a B-horror movie?! (ayyy-eeee, the distinct aroma of cheapie popcorn and toilet bowl-sized beverages!)

Navigating the Choppy 9-to-5 Seas

So I get to work today still in my long weekend mourning period and what do I see but the chair spawn on my desk next to my keyboard, yes, the very same keyboard WHERE I DO SOME OF MY FINEST WORK/WEB EXPLORING.

The cleaning peeps must’ve thought I dropped it and was too lazy to pick it up for about 2.5 weeks (so they finally did it for me out of pity/concern).

GAWWWWRRRR. Don’t they know and recognize that it’s a piece of office offal! A rolling, spinning device’s droppings! A piece of furniture’s half-twin/afterbirth?!


Since it does, more or less, look like an ergonomic wrist guard for the keyboard, I gueeeesssss I’ll use it.

I mean, the emotional damage has already been done. In addition, it feels quite nice under my bony hand-arm joints.

Maybe I will reinvent my work space as a safe haven for office supply mutants. I’ll organize coffee breaks, luncheons, the whole shebang…for just me and my bent-out-of-shape paperclips, jammed staplers, dried out white-out, three-legged desks, disconnected phones, non-functional mouse pads, half-operational plus charred headphones, inkless pens, and abandoned plastic folder containers.

I Would Like to Expense All Future Therapy That Results From This Incident

So work just got really weird.

I was hitting that afternoon wall (you drones know what I’m talkin’ ’bout!) in terms of motivation and productivity, and my alterego Slothface was about to make an appearance, when suddenly I felt something soft and spongy underneath my too-casual-for-midweek flip flop. I look down at the floor, and it appears my office chair has expelled something from itself.

Now I know that sounds insane. But I’m serious. My office chair has spawned some kind of baby office chair/third armrest/twin that it may have partially eaten in the factory but it finally managed to spew out of its conscience.

Also nearby this chair creature was a fresh ketchup stain that appeared out of nowhere. Yes, ketchup, as in a poor, sticky substitute for blood in an elementary school play!

Is someone trying to frame me? At my desk? With fake blood and office furniture spawn? I, for one, am intrigued.

This is like an R.L. Stine Goosebumps plot*, and I can’t wait to find out what happens next!

Keep it up, Wednesday! We’re almost there (i.e., the weekend! AMIRITE?!)!

*To back my point up further, Wikipedia describes Goosebumps plots as such [my comments in square brackets and sexy italics]:

“The primary protagonist(s) of a Goosebumps story is often situated in a remote location or somehow isolated from typical societal conventions [Totes me!]. This can be as simplistic as comfortable suburban areas, or as exaggerated as boarding schools, foreign villages, campsites, unfamiliar relatives’ homes or oversea areas [Or office cubes! Hello!]. The books in the Goosebumps series usually feature semi-homogenous plot structures with normal kids being, frequently indirectly, involved in scary situations; chapters end in cliffhangers, and after the central conflict has either been or appears to have been resolved, there is often a twist ending [What’s more of a twist than no ending?!]. Also, in his autobiography, R. L. Stine has stated that he often ends chapters in a state of suspense, like a cliffhanger [Bingo bango!].”