Everyday around the same time after lunch, my computer goes into a sort of production slump, much like me after lunch. We were meant to be together. PGP.

My Pandora has played nothing but songs about quitting your job to move to the beach. PGP.

My life is one part “The Office,” two parts “Office Space,” zero parts funny. PGP.

Just followed PGP on my company’s Twitter account. Almost got fired. PGP.

My boss is letting everyone hang out in the conference room and watch the World Cup. I hate soccer. PGP.

The only thing I’ve done at work today is creep on girls on Instagram and make World Cup futures bets. PGP.

Spelling your email phonetically. PGP.

I missed my train on purpose this morning so I could just have a few more minutes to myself. PGP.

This is my cube. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My cube is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. My cube, without me, is useless. Without my cube, I am useless. PGP.