“Oh good, you’re still here.” PGP.

Secretly hoping the plastic bottle vodka gag gift makes it around to you in the company gift exchange. PGP.

I’ve reached a zen-like level of apathy. PGP.

My parents started charging me rent. PGP.

White elephant gift exchange anxiety. PGP.

“How’s work?” is my go-to pickup line. PGP.

My new drug dealer is my doctor. PGP.

This isn’t the job I deserved, but the job I needed. PGP.

My life isn’t really dope, and I rarely do dope shit. PGP.

My bank account sits at -$13.47. I am worth negative one medium, no topping pizza. PGP.

There’s more liquor in my desk than my apartment. PGP.

Everyone in my company uses stand up desks. PGP.