My body might be here at work, but my brain is back home staring at my progressing download of Spn's final episode, watching that bar creeeep across the screen. Deeeeeean! Saaaaaam! Impaaaaaaaala! ::wails and gnashes teeth::
So to get us through this traumatic, trialling time, let's have to recent comments from my workplace (i have better ones, but they're all at home. maybe i'll share them later after work, if i'm still waiting for the download):
Me: "I need brain implants so i can control my computer using my mind."
Phil: "You need what?"
Me: "Brain implants."
Phil: "I thought you said something about needing pants."
Me: "Yes, i need a brain in pants."
Phil: "So basically, you need a man?"
Nigel: "...maybe it's time to get our diaries together..."
Phil: "What good will getting their diaries together do?"
Me: "Well maybe they'll..."
Phil: "...mate? And have a little notebook."
Mark: "Dave, when you have 5 minutes, can i have 7 to 10 minutes to talk about something?"
Me: "You know, that's really not going to work."
[discussing finding a worker part-time work]
Dave: "I'm sure you could pick up an 18 year old..."
Nigel: "I assure you, i've tried, and i can't."
Dave: "Why does it always come out WRONG!?"
Me: "My chair sounds like a duck!"
I won't share the conversation me and Phil had about singing leopardskin thongs. Because, disturbing. Oh, and we got a baby Grand Piano last night. Hee. I can play Chitty Chitty Bang Bang already, which my coworker this morning informed me was about blokes in the army getting sex. I think i'll sing it with more gusto now.