Desk Clock of Death +3

As I sit here and I rot

I squeeze the shit out of the clock

but that fucker's not moving any faster...

You are an overpaid athlete Mr. Clock...

You strut around in circles never doing anything extaoridinary except stopping from lack of attention...

I hate what you and what you bring into my life...

Screw you too Mr. Computer...

You are the bane of my existance...

An endless source of issue...

I have spent more time "fixing" your kind than I have sleeping for christs sake...

Go to hell Sir Calculator...

You are a useless crap...

I can't stand when I press your buttons and you act like I didn't...

Then I can't remember whether the C or CE allows you to retype what you supposedly missed...

ARGH

and a double fuck you Mr. Stapler...

I could hold paper together more effectively with spit...

I understand Milton...

He found one that works...and damnit its probably worth burning your office down over it...

I understand...


A hearty "Bite me" to my mouse...

your cord is infinitely stuck on something...

You never respond to my precision drawing motions...

I can't be that bad at drawing you prick...

and your friggin wheel only works when it wants to...I'd fire that bastard if he worked for me...

Mr. Rolodex....

I fought so hard to get you...

to help me cope with my etch a sketch memory...

but all you do is show me that I already put the number in you after I looked it up again...


Mr Ruler you are a show piece at best...

I can't possibly think of a good reason that you and I should work together yet I can't get rid of you...

I measure stuff all the time but never for work...


Mr Chewed writing utensils...

you are my minions of evil...

you gross the masses...you turn them away...so you earn your keep...

Noone ever steals a chewed up pen...ha!

Mr Sticky Pad...

I don't know what to do with you...

I peel 10 - 15 slices of your magic off a day...

sometimes I make origami...it was always hard as a kid to find perfectly square origami paper...you could make it your self but then there was always that freyed edge...

Sometimes I make that thing we used to make in grade school where you pick a number and then they open and close it that number of times and then open the flap only to tell you that your a fag or something like that...

Sometimes I make a mini-fan...

but you can't be re-attached...I try...and I tell myself it's the same...but I know it's not...just like when you lose your protective backing sheet...it's not the same...you are a stepchild...

it's ok...so am I...