Tonight all I can do is finger parts of my body. Scanning in a mental tactile image storage unit of my bits. For most of an hour running a pad along my gums thinking....man o manischewitz, gums are some wierd alien transplant shit man.

The previous night I was roaming the office. Going from desk to desk making fun of co-workers personal touches to their cubicle. One idiot has a poster of Whitney Houston. Looks like she's pole dancing with a giant crack pipe. Another one has expansive photographic montages of him standing in front of buildings around the globe, always with the same stupid smile. The kind of smile that makes you wish you could put his head in a vice.

I licked the doorknob of a vice president's office. Hoping he would smell his palm wondering where that strange tangy, saliva residue like odor came from.

I stood at the backdoor to the slave room. The room I'm shackled to. The other person I worked with was zonked out, drooling from the mouth. I decided to stand behind the glass door, directly behind his sleeping head, and just stare at him. Stare at him till he could feel my thoughts clawing up his spine.

Tonight I made mocking faces into the phone reciever while talking to an aggravated engineer I had to wake up. I started uncontrolably laughing, just below the sound barrier. The dork on the other end asked if I was alright. Told him an insect flew past me in a funny manner. Stunned silence. He's gonna call me back.

Might go jerk off on the pool table in the game room later.