

I just found it, all five pages:

And there was Grant Brissey, all tuckered out from his Christmas adventures, nestled like a hibernating chipmunk on the conference room table, swaddled in Lindy West's fleece Time Traveler's Wife promotional blanket. He was surrounded by a halo made out of crushed cans of Rize, a book called Furverts, and a well-thumbed copy of the Butt Book. Kelly O's magical weight-lifting thong kept watch over him. Just look at how sweet he is: (Click to enlarge.)
If you can ignore the aged-malt-liquor-energy-drink reek in the air, he looks just like a little angel, doesn't he? We'll let him sleep for another five minutes before we wake him up and get him to work on setting his mess right. Those bathrooms ain't gonna clean themselves.


At some point between the last time I was in editorial (around 3 am this morning) and now, an evil mysterious cheesecake has appeared. There is no accompanying note and no clue as to its origin. Just cheese and cake heated into this sinister form of mockery delivered on a platter of styrofoam. I now believe that either someone from the staff—likely Charles, as it is easier for him to hide in the dark—is tormenting me, or the heads are more powerful than I first predicted.

This head, which appears to be the evil brother of this one, materialized at some point during Officewatch 2009™. I am not sure how.

Over the last week, some of these animals have become my friends:
The eel, who lives a life of solitude in the sales intern cubicle. I have named him Josh.

There were once fish in this box of algae otherwise known as an aquarium, which is located on the third-and-a-half floor, but apparently God had mercy on them at some point in the last six months or so.

This head, which I am now convinced is watching me every time I go to the third floor.

UPDATE: There is also this thing:


I believe this head is watching me anytime I go to the third floor. Co-workers are still days away.

Here are the Christmas presents that Jim Beam and I wrapped for me night before last or yesterday morning (which caused me to go out on yet another overnight drunk, which in turn resulted in me sleeping under my desk until the P.M.):
Compaq laptop with no power chord:

Red Hot Chili Peppers picture book, Me and my Friends. (Stolen from Megan Seling's desk drawer, obviously.):

A four pack of Rize malt liquor with two Rize missing:

A pre-consumed bottle of Jim Beam:

And this can:

Please enjoy this special holiday edition of Name this Band while unwrap my treasures.


Our tech guys are apparently "sick," (which really means they're either smoking marijuana at home or smoking marijuana on vacation) so Tim offered me "one-hundred large," by which I assume he means either one hundred pennies or one hundred of God-knows-what from one of his drug dealers, to "stay around for the week and make sure the internet tubes don't overheat." And since he's still garnishing my wages for a clerical error, I figured I could use either to get through the winter.
There were a few stragglers left around the office yesterday, but today it looks like either Paul and Dan fired up those machines that write blog posts for them somewhere outside of the office, or they're not writing any (thanks guys), and it's mighty quiet in here.
Just me, Jeff Poulin and his soiled underwear hanging on the wall:

Kelly O and Jay's disgusting coffee pot that they never clean out:

Several pallets of the understandably discontinued alcoholic malt beverage Rize (pictured earlier in the week):

And this troublingly bare vending machine, which I will be forced to patronize later when I'm drunk:
