bigpimpinmba's Diaryland Diary

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Ninja Desk

The other morning, I got into work earlier than anyone else, so I was the only one in the office. For this, I am thankful.

I was working up some paperwork to fax over to a customer. I sent the paperwork to the printer and went to get up and walk to the printer when my desk had apparently had enough of my standing up bullshit. Who the hell am I to think that I can simply stand up and sit down whenever I please?

So, here we have the BigPimp attempting a difficult dismount from my chair, when the deranged fan, my desk, decided to pull a Ron Artest on yours truly. You know that tiny, minute, microscopic spot on your kneecap that can completely debilitate you and leave you in a heap under your desk? I didn�t either until the corner of my desk so rudely introduced me to it.

Here�s a running commentary of my thoughts that were going through my head as I was going through the very difficult task of printing a document, standing up and walking over to the printer.

�OK. Bob will be really happy that I am sending this fax to him so early. Man, am I a good little worker bee or what? OK. Now, all we have to do is clickety-click on the little print icon to start my day with some workalicious goodness. Wow, this is going just swell. Guess I should get up and pick up that nice printout and send it off to Bob. I�ll stand up in the normal fashion by swinging my legs around and standing up. Maybe on my way over to pick up my printout I�ll make a pot of coffSWEET MERCIFUL CRAP! WHY AM I NOW LAYING ON THE FLOOR IN PAIN? WHAT HAVE I, WHAT HAVE I, WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS? AND WHY AM I QUOTING PET SHOP BOYS ALBUMS?�

There is obviously a miniscule spot on your kneecap that, if hit precisely by the corner of your desk, will render you weak, lightheaded and writhing in pain.

That about summed up my thought process as I was now laying on the floor, under my desk, moaning quite loudly, begging God to please make the pain stop. At the same time as I was begging for the pain to stop I was also thankful that I was the only one in the office, because I could only imagine what someone would think as they walked up and found the BigPimp moaning and writhing under my desk.

I�m right sexy. (Insert best Scottish accent here)

�����.

Sometimes, just sometimes, when sitting in traffic, getting caught with your finger up your nose to the fourth joint is completely worth it when you can�t blow it out with a tissue. Call me gross or disgusting or anything you want, but I�m pretty sure each and everyone reading this knows exactly what I�m talking about.

�����.

We were in church last week and I was standing during the part of Mass when you are supposed to do that. Fortunately, the pew did not think it necessary to take me out with a swift shot to the knee, sending me moaning to the floor of the church. Unfortunately, however, it was very quiet and my son thought that this was the perfect time to comment in a very loud voice, �Hey Daddy, THERE�S YOUR BUTT!� Mass hysterics from everyone in the direct vicinity. Classic.

������

Happy Thanksgiving. Be thankful that you�re not a gobbling fowl.

9:19 a.m. - 2004-11-25

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