i was talking to dimitrios via IM at work today, trying to explain something to him. i told him to let me know if what i was about to type didn't make any sense, but before i could get to typing the explanation, i was called out of the office for a meeting up the hall. so i left him on IM, alone and awaiting my reply, for a good half-hour or so. the following was in the chat window when i returned:

it makes no sense. at least so far.

are you still writing? maybe you're on the phone. yeah, that's the ticket! the phone! wait. maybe you're not on the phone. well, it is a tuesday. so you're not alone at the office. so the evil spirits that like listening to the radio late at night are probably asleep. which means maybe you're taking a huge shit.

or you're in a meeting. that's probably it! a meeting. a really important meeting. about ... a MERGER! or something equally exciting for an office setting. what if you just hate talking to me? that would suck. for now i won't think such thoughts. let's go back to brainstorming.

what could be taking you so long? maybe you're on a break. breakfast break? but you just got to work. it's too early. hmm. maybe you're working out! like, it's gotten to the point where your productivity suffers if you don't work on your body several times a day. sheesh! i knew you were determined, but come on, man! this is bordering on the brink of insanity. you need to concentrate on trying to keep your job, which you won't be able to do if the boss catches you in the break room on your back. well, i guess it depends on what your boss is into. if you get my drift. :naughty. i've decided against the working-out theory. it's too devil-may-care. i think you have a strong work ethic. i wouldn't put it past you to climb the stairs in lieu of taking the elevator. but taking personal workout time is just taking it too far. i trust you have far more respect for your employer.

i'm sorta entertaining the idea that you're in a knockdown, drag-'em-out fistfight with a coworker. something along the lines of ... you're sitting at your desk typing away and, let's say ... larry ... comes by. he says "hey, what the hell happened to you?! you look terrible today."

of course, this isn't the first time larry's done this. and by now, you've had enough. today was your breaking point. so you snap. "listen, larry, i'm not really in the mood for your bullshit right now."

"whoa, calm down, buddy. 'bullshit'? i was genuinely concerned about your well-being. you just look like you've had a rough night is all."

"so apparently two or three times a week, i've had a rough night. even though i always respond by telling you i'm feeling fine, you're, for some unknown reason, determined to get to the bottom of why i look terrible. even though you're the only person who thinks so?! listen larry, every day you come in here wearing your ugly fucking ties, smelling like dogshit and spitting on people when you talk. and you know what? i bite my tongue. and you know why?"

"why? why don't you enlighten me?"

"i'll tell you why, larry. because i have the common decency to not want my coworkers to feel like shit every morning! no matter how annoying they can be! because i already know how shitty i feel coming in here every day and i figure, 'how about letting this day run as smoothly as possible, so i can get the fuck out of here in eight hours and relax?" i mind my own business around here. why don't you try minding yours?! at least concerning me. next time you think i'm not looking my best, keep it to yourself!"

upon which larry practically throws the crawford file at you and turns to storm off. but this is michael-douglas-in-falling down-style-you. and you ain't havin' that shit. so you lunge at larry, knocking him to the ground. the two of you exchange punches until phil comes by and breaks it up.

eh. i don't know. there's something a little too fantastic about that idea. you're probably working on the glen burnie sidebar or some such project. i'm actually at the point now where i don't think you'll ever write back, and i'm somewhat offended. because you don't even have the balls to say, "listen dude, you're cramping my style. time to cut you off. no buddy list for you!"

unless you've been abducted by aliens. actually, being abducted by aliens sounds somewhat exciting. ditto alien. i guess if were to be worried, you'd have been abudcted by alien: resurrection and taken to the city of lost children, i guess. hahaha.

what am i doing? i shouldn't be laughing in this time of crisis. what if you've fallen down a well? like baby jessica.

interesting. baby jessica: is she the product of baby herman and jessica rabbit? i always loved jessica rabbit. i think i had a bit of a crush on her when i was a youngster. i remember a trip to disneyworld -- mgm studios to be exact -- where my father instructed me to take a picture next to the life-size jessica rabbit cutout in the toontown section of the park. and if i recall correctly, i couldn't stop blushing, which is hilarious in hindsight. but in the moment, i was terrified that my parents would discover the delight i took in staring at her ample bosom. those were some sexy strokes.

anyway, i guess i can't keep this up all day. a guy's gotta get some rest, ya know? plus i have several unwatched dvds to attend to.

what a guy, ladies and gentleman. he'll be here all week. enjoy the buffet.