Coworkers assuming you’re hungover when you actually have a cold. PGP.

The amount of times I’ve heard “just wait until you have kids” is making me reconsider being a father. PGP.

Finding joy by wearing fancy patterned dress socks. PGP.

Reading Dilbert comics on my break. PGP.

Judging the TFM Halloween costume contest more on creativity than sluttiness. PGP.

My boss didn’t take me seriously when I suggested mailing coasters to bars with our company logo on them. I work in advertising. PGP.

Left to take a 20 minute dump at 9:32. Voicemail from manager at 9:33. PGP.

My LinkedIn Premium trial ends at midnight. PGP.

I’m writing this so my office mates think I’m actually working. PGP.

All I’ve been able to do today is sit in my chair and slump forward with my arms crossed. That hungover. PGP.

My parents have more of a social life than I do. PGP.

“I’m a little upset about a bad sexual episode last night.” -Fletcher Reed. PGP.

Identifying more and more with Chandler Bing’s attitude towards work. PGP.

Really bonding with Bill Simmons over having shitty coworkers. PGP.

The only “company ink” I could “dip my pen in” is the divorced 55-year-old office manager. PGP.

Dry spell is approaching ‘Nam-like proportions. Neverending. PGP.

Second in command, on a two-person team. PGP.

I relate more to “Seinfeld” than any other show on television. PGP.

Spent all weekend logged on the company’s Google account while looking for other jobs. PGP.

Couldn’t use a lot of my vacation days this year. Took off every Friday until 2015. PGPM.