Upon entering my humble cubicle, I realized that I hadn't posted an entry in peachycreme for about, well, a year. "It's time to re-kick peachycreme!", I pronounced--finger tips a-twitchin'. To which I got a roll of the eyes, and a maniacal chuckle from Raquel. Sarcasm aside, it is time to resuscitate this compendium of rants. Time to re-establish my standing in the blogosphere.
I think I've been spending too many hours in this office. So many, in fact, that I have formed some sort of strange bond with a specific bathroom stall in the ladies room. Now, I know women are "known" to flock together to the lavatories. To travel in groups (what? we're close. we catch up in there.) But I think I've finally hit the wall and taken a strange step. I've befriended a toilet. A clean, immaculate, no bull-shit new friend. However, a couple of minutes ago, I was shocked and appalled to find a stranger, spread-legged over my new friend. My new ceramic friend. I was forced to enter the third-from-the-left stall. The one with the very sad, very bad, wiggly door. My seven minutes in heaven. Ruined.