IN THEIR EYES YOU ARE NOT THAT FABULOUS

One of my coworkers has discovered snuff, and intends to spend memorial day snorting tobacco powder up his nose and chugging beer. He says it's going to be awesome. When I see him again, two weeks from now, I shall ask whether he's in the middle of a divorce yet. I know some good lawyers. Another one finally finished several weeks of a fidgeting dermal layers off the faces of skin cancer patients (lots of blood), completed her courses, and is now a graduate. To which hearty congratulations. Assisting at excisions and peeling diseased liver spotted parchment was probably the easy part.
Academic work requires brains and fortitude. And determination.

Today was marked by cigars. And pipe tobacco.
And buckets of Pu-Erh tea.

Plus snuff.


Actually, the coworker with the nose wasn't the only one.

Three people discovered nasal snuff, and their lives will never be the same. Unfortunately it was raspberry flavoured snuff, rather than one of the more traditional kinds. So sort of the juvenile delinquent version. Very much like hazelnut low-fat frappuchinos are for spam-brained twenty somethings, lite beer is for lardos and twiggy clothing models, and fruity cocktails are perfect for suburbanite housewives of all genders having a merchandising scheme party, perhaps with a well-endowed gay stripper.


I work with these people. I am a patient man.
Sort of the long-suffering Christian.



I would like some praise, appreciation, and comforting kissies.

All very much deserved at this point.

I've earned it.




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