you can't see me now, but i'm wishing you were dead

it's time i shared something really personal with you. i know that you crave my private morsels so much that you require them in order to effectively live your life. having said that, i apologize for just making you consider my private morsels because that's almost inappropriate for this particular pg-13 rated blog entry. and also, for taking an eternity to disclose such information. here is a list of things you can hear when you sit at my desk:

• someone gross clipping their nails at work
• corporate lady hacking lung juice up onto me
• older contractor fellow thinking/smelling old
• an intern being far too young for me
• the riddler's cell phone. from another floor
• middle-aged vendor man with unusually loud, projected voice in a heated discussion regarding purdue football
• car alarms; gas-o-line-is-my-food. raid-io knobs!
• smokie-joes breathing freshly smoked cigarette onto me. mmmmm. yummy.
• nagging, aggressive, know-it-all monotoner cutting into my face like razor sharp icicles
• frantic typists
• angry foreign language phone yeller man, and woman
• a welcomed secret lovers ringtone from a few desks over
• someone with hughjungous kloppers approaching. i mean, you can hear this one walking in their giant shoes before they even know they're comin
• incessant clogged sinus fixer
• incessant coffee slurper
• incessant statement ending nervous laugher
• chronic germie with significant cough
• nerds
• the last bits of my soul slowly and painfully escaping, like when you drop live lobsters into boiling water and they begin to scream a deathly, high-pitched, mercy cry

ok. you can't actually hear that last part. you can only feel it and that's precisely why i took the day off. and it would "sound" like this if you could hear it: