My friend, JB, came to the opening in my cube this afternoon (you can't really call it a door). She said, "I'm gassy. And my feet smell."

Then I made her laugh and my entire cube became enveloped in a smell that can only be described as ... fart.

We laughed hysterically while I fanned the odor with a customer request email I had printed out. She said she had just come over to ask if there was anything she could do to help me before she went home for the day.

I said, "Yeah. Get the fuck away from my cube!"

Then we laughed some more.

What is it about me that says, "Please feel free to express your flatuence around her. She's okay with the whole bodily function thing."?

I can't lift my arms above keyboard level.

I guess going to the gym once every two months isn't really good enough.

I'm going back tomorrow just to show that I cannot be beaten by the Paramount Shoulder Press and the Body Masters Leg Curl.

Nope not me.

I missed "Buffy" last night. The friggin' Pistons were on instead. I am not a basketball fan so I found this way annoying. They'll be showing it on Saturday at 8:00 p.m.

I'd like to get all indignant and say, "I have a life! You can't expect me to stay home on a Saturday night to watch this silly show!" But the truth is, I'll be home anyway and even if I weren't, I know how to program my VCR.

Hubband just left.

He asked me if I could wait an hour for dinner because in between dropping off the DVD's we rented over the weekend and getting the SubWay, he's stopping off at the local Irish Pub to watch some Redwings hockey.

I think Squirrel has been a bad influence on him. I could become a sports widow.

The upside of this is that I would have total control of the remote!!!!

Joke we're passing around the office today:

Scientists in Scottland have discovered that women's hormones can effect what type of men they find attractive. Women who are ovulating usually go for the rugged, outdoorsy type. Women who are menstrating prefer men with a scissor sticking out of their left temple.