mnvnjnsn's Diary

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Guy in Vest: Himself.

There are two people in my office whom I see every time I'm in the break room, and it's starting to creep me out. We have about 60 people in this office, and yet everytime I'm in there, I see the same creepy British salesguy who always wears a vest and a tall, sallow guy who I've never been introduced to.

It's not like I hang out in the break room all the time. I actually go out of my way to not spend much time in there. But it never fails, if I'm in there to pick up a diet coke or a yogurt, one of those creepy guys is there. The other guy must be a salesman too, because evidently neither of them ever do any work.

Who knows, to them I may be creepy chick who drinks too much diet Coke. One of them may be writing in his journal right now about how he can't get a moment's peace in the breakroom because the girl with the unkempt hair is always thirsty. I doubt it, though.

Sometimes I think that all these people on the periphery of my life-- the folks who piss me off on the freeway, or the nameless rubes on the other side of the office-- aren't real people at all, like they're from the cosmic office of central casting, and if I poked at them I'd find out they were actually made of cardboard.

Which of course means that I am the center of the universe. But we already knew that, right?

4:27 p.m. - 2004-02-11


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