11/30/2003

Brian / Anonymous: The smaller version of Triscuits are called, "Trits" !
Jenn: Oh my God! That's so funny, I think I'll write it on my balls!
(I meant blog.)

I'm so happy my Brian's back :-)

11/26/2003

I think it's the greatest thing I've ever seen:
You should click on it.
Ding, Fries are Done.

11/22/2003

"I quit wearing the do-me boots when I stopped doing the do-me`s."
-This is Sonja from work. She calls me Jerry Hall, plays golf with her cronies,
listens to psychics,
and told me a story once about a former co-worker who wore no underwear.

11/18/2003

This is a song by Thursday. And I'm at work.
And I think Thursday sings about my work:

falling from the top floor, your lungs fill like parachutes,
the windows go rushing by.
the people inside,
they're dressed for the funeral in black and white.
these ties strangle our necks, hanging in the closet,
filed in the cubicle, without a name,
just numbers on a resume, stored in the mainframe, marked for delete.

please take these hands,
throw them in the river,
wash away the things they've never held.
please take these hands,
throw me in the river
but don't let me drown
before the work day ends.

'Nine to Five', and we're up to our necks
drowning in the seconds,
ingesting the morning commute,
lost in a dead subway sleep--
Now we lie wide awake in our parents beds,
tossing and turning, tomorrow we'll get up
and drive to work, in single file,
with everyday just like the last:
waiting for the life to start, it's always just ahead of the curve....

just keep making copies,
of copies,
of copies,
when will it end....

it'll never end,
until it gets so bad
that the ink fills in our fingerprints
and the silhouette of your own face becomes the black cloud of war.
even in our dreams we're so afraid the weight will offset who we are.
all those breaths that you took have now been cancelled in your lungs.
last night my teeth fell out like
ivory typewriter keys,
and all the monuments and skyscrapers burned down and filled the sea.

Save Our Ship,
the anchor is part of the desk.
We can't cut free,
water is flooding the decks,
the memo's sent through the currents,
computer's spark like flares--
I can see them but they don't touch me.
Touch me, please someone,
teach me how to swim,
please don't let me drown.

11/15/2003

Eww. Gross. She is uber scary.

Listen up. I've been listening to the Neil Diamond "Coming To America"
masterpiece for the last four hours on a continuous loop.
He's the greatest songwriter of all time and, we love him.

11/14/2003

Jaybles: "Dude, and she's even got her spine pierced."
Rage Cage: "And you're totally into spinal piercings!!"

"Not NOW arctic puffin!"

11/13/2003

"can we get some heat in this place? my womanly parts are at half mast."
-My pal melissa.
How cool is it in Primedia? ICE COLD.
I know what to dooo. Shake it, shake, shake, shake, shake it.