So I haven't felt like being an exhibitionist lately...

....well? I haven't. At work, I started to write again on my lunch break...a couple entries here and there. I haven't gotten around to posting them though. Here's the first one (and the most important since it basically recaps the events that have taken place since my little blog sabbatical):

Ok, every once in a while I get sick of my blog and move on for a while. Obviously this was one of those times. It just so happened that I moved on during a PARTICULARLY eventful time in my life, so it makes me sad to look at my blog now and see that the latest update about my life is about the Kitty Half Time.

In March I got laid off. It’s ok, I didn’t like the bathrooms at the firm anyway, and I hated making nametags. HATED IT. Here’s how it went down:

1. The Firm calls a mass meeting to tell us we’re laid off.
2. Here is what I was thinking during the meeting: “SHIT.”
3. They tell me my lay off is effective the next day and I tell them there is no way in hell I’m going back to my desk…now…or EVER.
4. …so, I get in my car and punch my steering wheel and cry for like ten minutes on the phone to my mom…
5. …and for ten more minutes at the mall on Colin’s shoulder.
6. I go home and apply for grad school…
7. …but then get freaked out about student loans, so I apply for jobs as well.
8. I sit around for about a month (in hindsight, this was awesome)
9. …and then get hired by a new, better company.

Yep, that’s right, I got another job. Within a month. MIRACLE. The only downsides to this job are:

1. My cubicle has no window L. I know, boo hoo, poor kate.
2. It is one (1)(uno)(un) HOUR from where I live. That’s two (2)(dos)(deux) hours in the car EVERY DAY. I never in a million years thought I would listen to as much morning radio as I do now. I even have thought about calling in a couple times because why SHOULDN’T I be part of the discussion? I mean, I’m listening every damn day, I feel like sometimes the morning show should hire me.
3. They do not provide me with free plastic dishes and silverware. Or subsidized snacks and sodas.
4. Stupid handles on the bathroom doors. I will attempt to take a picture later, surreptitiously, with my phone.

They do, however, provide me with the following:

1. The opportunity not to blow my diet on 25c snacks and sodas.
2. A better salary
3. Cooler people who do not talk about their children ALL DAY.
4. ‘Cause some of them don’t even HAVE children, which is nice.
5. More work and more responsibility, so I only have time to update my blog during my lunch hour.
6. A reason to move to the outskirts of St. Louis
7. Way nicer building
8. No window IN my cubicle, but the window BY my cubicle looks onto a lake, and not a brick wall.
9. If there is a terrorist attack on downtown St. Louis, I will not be the first to go.
10. Way better parking situation
11. Way better boss/delegation
12. More jeans days
13. A coat hook that came WITH MY CUBICLE.

Things the Firm gave me:

1. a month off
2. severance pay

Ok, lots of other things. It’s a way better situation.

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My other big news is that I finally got my engagement ring!!!!!! I know, this happened like three months ago, but in thinking about it, I decided that maybe the only thing my future children will want to read about on my blog (future daughters, anyway) is my engagement and wedding. Probably about their births and the trials and tribulations of our early marriage before they came along, as well.

For now, all I have to really talk about is wedding planning. It is probably a good thing that I did not update my blog when I was in the initial phase of wedding planning.

Let’s discuss how my wedding is still ten months away, and I have already made it through the “initial phase of wedding planning”. Some normally adjusted women might not have even started planning at ten months out, or at the very least would have JUST started planning. NOT ME. I am finished planning, save for the cake. Yep, that’s right, the cake is the only thing I have left to plan in my wedding, which is in March of next year.

So, that’s why I think it’s probably best that I didn’t update when I was furiously planning every detail of my wedding in a single two-month span. At that time, the only thing interesting about me was how crazy I was. Anyway, I can sum up the whole wedding planning experience in one post, instead of the two months worth of daily posts it would have required back then:

1. I booked a reception hall (which subsequently required me to book a caterer) and a ceremony location.
2. I asked my grandfather to officiate.
3. I bought a dress. This experience is still resonating “crazy” in the world of Kate because I have a picture of said dress on my cubicle wall. Mostly to remind me to STOP EATING.
4. I made mock invitations. OK, heres the thing. I would love to just ORDER invitations. However, I feel like if I do not make them myselves I will be judged. Still, my mock invitation took about three milliseconds of design skill, so perhaps I will be judged anyway.
5. I picked out bridesmaid dresses
6. In a particularly intense wave of crazy, I made a playlist for my wedding reception. Which resulted in a minor discussion between C and I over whether or not it was appropriate to play Tupac.
7. My mother and I booked a florist. I’m not entirely convinced my mother didn’t book him more because he was a fabulous gay man and less because he is also a fabulous flower designer.
8. We booked a photographer who is the BOMB DIGGITY.

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That's as far as I got on my lunch break. Today I haven't been feeling very upbeat so reading my upbeat journal entry makes me a little more disphoric than I already was, and less inclined to write more.

I intended to post pictures of all the wedding stuff, but I'm feeling a little burnt out on weddings lately. I dunno why...maybe because it just seems like it's so far away. I think that's a good sign to put it on the back burner for a while, anyway.

Ok, gonna go cook dinner. I promise I'll update more, blog. I'm sure my future children will thank me not to write only about my cubicle, skipping the important, exciting moments.

God, I suck. I guess the least I can say is that I TRIED to update every day. That's better than nothing. 

I've been trying to think of meaningful things to be grateful for, but I find the usual things to give thanks about make for boring entries. For instance, today, I was thankful that I didn't have to work so I could sleep in til ten. Then I was thankful that there was a Whose Wedding is it Anyway? marathon on. I guess I'm also thankful that Daniel's work gave me a table to put my TV on (in my room) so I could achieve ultimate slovenly-ness and watch said marathon in my underwear. 

I was NOT thankful that Sam gave C a Lowes gift certificate for christmas. We spent a goodly amount of time picking out the PERFECT metallic black spray paint. Thanks a lot, Sam.

I'm thankful that I invented a new drink tonight at Halo Bar: Amaretto and RedBull. Do you like sweettarts? Do you like delicious things? Try this out. It is both of those things (delicious and like sweettarts) Honestly, you might just have to be a bad person if you don't like this drink. 

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DORK ALERT: You are a dork if you receive hundreds of dollars worth of clip art and a book about fonts for christmas. Extra seventy eleven trillion points for being stoked about it. 

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For the last seven minutes or so C has been trying to take a picture of our cats and dog sleeping together on the bed. On the one hand, how can you not love a boy who is taking pictures of kitties. On the other hand....he's taking pictures of kitties. I feel like this is important insight into what it will be like to live with C in a retirement village. You may ask....is it possible to be a cat MAN? Well, I'm here to tell you. It's possible.*

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I'm beginning to think updating your blog every day is a bad idea, like having sex every day. It seems like a great plan at the time but then after a while all you can think about is the style network marathon you watched in your underwear that morning while you're doing it.**

*Heather: C is not as bad as Dave. Yet. 

**we don't have sex every single day so don't worry, my sex life is not as boring as my blog.***

***I hope.  

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To sum up: 

1. I'm boring and apparently lazy

2. ....thats about it. 

 

THIS IS WHAT I WROTE THURSDAY.

THIS IS WHAT I WROTE SATURDAY:
Ok ok, I'm updating. It's only 11:10 so it still counts for Saturday.

THIS IS WHAT I WROTE MONDAY:
That's what I wrote for Saturday. MAN I'm a loser. Clearly the problem is just that I need to start at the BEGINNING of the month and not in the middle of it. Clearly.

Ok, now I'm really going to update.

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THIS IS WHAT I WROTE ON WEDNESDAY:

I put the Onion widget on my google desktop because, well, I love the Onion, and ever since I did this I keep thinking the headlines it posts are real. This results in quite a few of these: "Hey baby, President Bush just took a wild tumble down the steps of the Washington Monument! Did you know?!" and "oh my gosh, a blistex employee made a fool of himself at a lip balm conference!" and "Jesus! Bush just got his arm bit off by a crocodile!" and other ridiculous outbursts that have nothing to do with real news.

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Today I will really update. I really will. My latest exploits include searching for vacations in Sun Valley Idaho for the family and blowing the lint out of my keyboard with the magic dust remover. That stuff is amazing! PS: why does the can get cold when you use it? Anyone?

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Occasionally my phone does this thing at the office where it will randomly turn the ringer back on at it's loudest possible setting. Let me tell you, when I'm expecting my phone to merely buzz harmlessly and instead a blaring rendition of my alma mater's fight song, Al Green (C's ring) Hall and Oates (Sammy's Ring) or Don't Stop Believing (Gibble's Ring) comes out of my phone unexpectedly....lets just say I've knocked a couple elbows and knees around jumping out of my seat when it happens.

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BEST OF YAHOO ANSWERS V. 3

I feel upset, so will you sing a Nickelback song to me please?

What is the best website to date teen girls in Oman ?

What will the plot of the next cat porn, starring Adam and Sophie, be?

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Anyway, I leave you with this:

NaBloPoMo

Yesterday I joined NaBloPoMo as extra incentive to update EVERY DAY. Get excited!

I'm not going to put up the November NaBloPoMo badge becauuuuse November is half over and I definitely haven't posted every day.

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In other news, November is half over!! How?!

Tomorrow it is supposed to snow in Saint Louis. GREAT. I used to really think snow was awesome, because it only happened once every ten years in South Carolina. Well, the reason for that is because snow is only awesome IF it happens once every ten years. You need at least ten years between snows to forget how much they suck. I mean, don't get me wrong, snow is pretty. If you happen to be in the country, in a quiet field surrounded by sleeping trees and with grey-blue sky stretching as far as the eye can see. If you have a snug coat and cute hat on, even better. Snowflakes will fall on your nose and eyelashes and everything and everything will shimmer with joy. Yeah.

Unfortunately when it snows on Indiana Avenue, immediately it turns grey and fills up with dirt and soot and crack needles. Oliver goes out into the yard and refuses to go further than two inches away from the porch so the snow in our yard is spotted with dog poop and pee. I consistently Soooo, not that great. Nothing magical about that.

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Speaking of Oliver, this morning when I woke up I found a present that he left me IN MY SHOWER. When he was a puppy, I understood this sort of behavior a lot better. I said to myself, why wouldn't the equivalent of a two year old child come and poop in my house? As he got older, I said "sure, the equivalent of a 15 year old person SHOULDNT be pooping in the shower, but this is oliver so maybe that fifteen year old is delayed a couple years"...if you know what I mean.

Now he is equivalent to a thirty year old human and i truly, TRULY cannot think of a good reason why a 30 year old man would drop a deuce in my shower. He's getting gray on his muzzle now, so he's got to be old enough to know that pooping in the shower is bad. I'm sure theres a wise adage about this somewhere (as you all know, my grandfather was a sailor so I know ALL ABOUT adages):

"Gray on your muzzle, don't poop in the shower."

....

I love him, but sometimes I think back on the day I picked him out. There were literally HUNDREDS of dogs there (it was a puppy farm, mistake no. 1) and I picked the dumbest one. Sure he was pretty and expensive, but he was dumb from the start. That's very classic kate behavior, by the way. Sort of like my $350 leather boots. Pretty, expensive, and a very dumb idea from the start. Of course I still love them (a lot, much like Oliver, I will cry when they bite the dust). My boots don't poop in the shower though. Not to my knowledge, anyway.

In other animal news, C just informed me that Ethan got locked in a room and was screaming bloody murder. IF there's any living thing in the house dumber than Oliver, its quite possibly Ethan. Here is a picture of him, telling me how he really feels:

Ethan is also a pooper. So is Dinah Lou, since Ethan moved in. Between the cats and Oliver, its often like the book of revelations come to life in this house.

ALSO, look how THIN I was! I guess that's what livin' off of cigarettes and adderall will do for you.




Anyway, its my lunch break now so I'm going ot watch the office.

Heck is for people that don't believe in gosh.

Dear Blog,
Sorry for not updating regularly.
Love,
Kate

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Anyway, I would like to tell you that I'm so busy that I just don't have a minute to break away to write but that's not true. I'm just lazy. Lately I've mostly been consumed with reading other people's blogs and this had made me intimidated and feeling sluggish about regaling the internet with stories about my cubicle. Or...well, my cubicle. That about sums it up. Yesterday I cleaned it! Today I rearranged the magnetic poetry on my cabinets! Oh, did I tell you about when I organized my books from largest to smallest?!

Yeah, cubicles suck.

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SORRY, MORE ELEVATOR RANTING:

This morning I was late to work. I parked my car by the elevator (I always park like three floors higher than necessary so I don't have to walk a long way to the elevator. Whoo...I am SO not living an active lifestyle and will probably die from deep vein thrombosis or something) What was I talking about? Oh right, the elevator.

ANYWAY: This SUPER cheery woman was holding the door for literally every single person in the whole garage. Including me, even though I was busy fiddling with my car, and putting my shoes on and losing my keys in my purse (you get the idea). I even gave her the "go ahead without me" wave and she didn't get it. I'm not sure what else I could have done except give her the "I LITERALLY WOULD RATHER HURL MYSELF OFF OF THE TOP OF THIS GARAGE THAN RIDE DOWN TO THE STREET WITH YOU AND THE SIX OTHER PEOPLE IN THERE" wave.

Eventually she got the message, but SERIOUSLY people. I'm beginning to think my hatred of the elevator is borderline sick.

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Since I've been reading other people's blogs I've been feeling less and less important/articulate. I think I've mentioned this before, but MAN, some of these ladies don't even curse. HOW?

Once, someone told me that someone told THEM that I had a gift for telling stories, which I don't think exactly translates into my blogging sometimes. For one, it must seem as though I have absolutely no grasp whatsoever of the English language, or it's grammar (one I got a C on a paper in COLLEGE because it had 17 comma splices, so this might actually be the case). But seriously, I just don't see the point in editing my blog. What you see is what you get here, people. This crap comes straight out of my brain onto the paper. No filters.

Secondly, it has occurred to me lately that maybe I was good at telling stories...back when I had some stories to tell people. I mean, it's not hard to tell a story like this one:

• Once upon a time, Kate and her Friend Sam trespassed in a National Park by climbing the fence at Monticello into an apple orchard planted when Thomas Jefferson lived there and absolutely GORGED themselves on delicious, ripe little national treasures.

True story! But man, compare that to this:

• Once upon a time, Kate was late to work because she couldn't find any pantyhose and she didn't want to get in the elevator and then her computer broke and she converted some firm resumes into a new format and went home and waited for C to get off work because she has no other friends.

WOW.

This same person also told the person who told me that he told her (right? right.) that when I cursed, it sounded "right" or that "it fit". At the time I was not interested in cutting down on the amount of cursing that I do nor did I regularly post in a blog that my grandmother may or may not read. So I was excited. Yea! I'm good at cursing! Now I'm not so impressed with myself when I can't come up with anything better to say than "shit." But I still make mistakes. Probably like ten times a day.

Hey, my grandfather was a sailor. That's what my mother told me and that's probably what I'll tell my daughters when they curse someday: "Hey, your great grandfather was a sailor, it's ok" and so on down the line. Someday there will be a distant ancestor of mine saying unspeakable things and her mother will tell her "Hey, I bet someone in our family was a sailor, so it's ok".

I think I really need some help. Shock therapy or something.

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*BONUS: Right as I typed this tome excusing myself from cursing my grandmother sent me an email with a prayer in it from Billy Graham. What's that you say? No one cares that your grandfather was a sailor? Cursing isn't cute anymore because you're a grown woman and not a whippy, in-your-face college girl?

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To sum up, and a few more small things that are happening in my life:

• I should not curse because God will use my grandmother as a tool to make me regret it by coinciding her devout emails with my excuses.
• My life will never, ever be as exciting as it was in college, but hopefully it will not continue to be this horrifyingly boring.
• God, I hate elevators.
• I tried for the fourth time to burn off the wart on my hand this weekend, and its STILL THERE.
• C and I looked at engagement rings! That's exciting, right?! I won't even allow myself to talk about it because people DEFINITELY dont want to read descriptions of the 50,000 rings I liked. Bottom line, C? If it's got some diamonds in it, I think I'm happy.
  
• It's four fifty and I am getting the hell heck out of dodge.

I'm cool, I swear.

Not wanting to dispel any notion that I am the Office Dork and officially the Least Professional Person Ever, today someone came by my desk and there I was (middle of my lunch break, but still), in the middle of reading Breaking Dawn, the latest installment in the teen-vampire melodrama manifesto, with my legs akimbo and my shoes scattered all over my cubicle. And this is what she said:

"That's very ladylike, Kate."

"Well fuck you very much", I should have said.

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What's with the big "Tampon Taboo"? I myself have fallen prey to it. Not wanting to carry a visible tampon to the bathroom with me, I find myself stuffing it up my sleeve, in my waistband, in my bra...it's a little ridiculous if you ask me. It's not really any more weird to carry a tampon in full view to the bathroom than it is to drop it out of your bra or your sleeve, which is a definite risk if decide to go that route.

Then again, the people in my office might not be surprised if a tampon fell out of my sleeve, to them that probably seems like something I might do.

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All this talk of me being uncool makes me a little uncomfortable, like those two people from Maryland who viewed my blog might think I'm uncool and not want to view my blog anymore.

10 REASONS I'M COOL:
1. I listen to Wilco.
2. I listen to SonVolt, which is pre-wilco wilco.*
3. I'm a graphic designer
4. I own many pencil skirts
5. I live in a city.
6. I use curse words and still manage to look educated. I think.
7. I own a hip, expensive, inbred dog.
8. I have commissioned artwork from a local artist
9. ....of my dog.
10. I have a snarky blog.

*The rest of this list may or may not be negated by the fact that after I typed number's one and two, I had a hard time coming up with any more reasons why I was cool, which may or may not mean that the only credit to my coolness is the fact that I listen to Wilco. You decide.

my blog speaks...in haiku

randomly generated haiku from my blog (titles added by yours truly):

Things not worse than exercise
body blast: which is
worse being plagued by blood
sucking insects or

Our mutual feeding schedule has gone awry!!
i was feeding her
and vice versa but it
has been a while

A list of perversions:
sitting on my face
or how kittens sound or what
love feels like on me

XXXDirty Dentists 3XXX
you didn't floss thats
thirty lashes with the tickler
for you tonight slave

Please, there are too many unwanted flea pregnancies in the world...
fully intending
to demand an iud since
i hate rotten fleas

The monster in your closet makes a mistake.
creature that will stand
behind the closing doors and
say oops loud enough

Stressed about orgasms
no idea the
mental anguish that i go
through when i'm finished

The ice-fisherman's kinky lover
get tied up and put
on an ice fishing hat
i'd like to kick it.

Haiku2 for kafrinrosefindaw
was that it doesn't matter if my baseboards are dusty or i
@ aboutmylife.netadvogato.orgblogger.comblogs.gnome.orgblogspot.comdeadjournal.comgreatestjournal.cominsanejournal.comlivejournal.commyspace.comspaces.msn.com
Created by Grahame

YESSSSS!

Movie Reviews

Here it is ladies and gentlemen, proof that my blog is not uneducated drivel.

PS: C had NO CAVITIES. And he didn't even get tied up and whipped until he begged for mercy. What kind of lackadaisical dentist is this, anyway.

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Someone just walked in and needed to show me something on the internet, so the harry potter story preoccupation is probably out of the bag. I should probably relax and realize that the current level of nerdity that i reside in hovers around me like a pink, glittery immature cloud at all times, and people that works with me day in and day out are eventually going to notice it. Should I embrace my Sci-fi tabloid-harry potter fanfiction-romance novel-wikipedia articles about the tudor dynasty reading self? Probably. It's probably worse when I try to hide it like a hideous deformity from the self-assured, well-dressed, ladder-climbing women in my office.

WOW thats a lot of hyphens.

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There is a sign on the mens bathroom that says "DO NOT ENTER." in handwritten scrawl on notebook paper. We all know what this means...I want to enter I MUST ENTER!! On the one hand it could be a juice office sex scandal happening right under my nose, but on the other (considerably less appealing) hand, it could be a...juicy office sewage backup.

Either way, I cannot deny that I am legitimately considering entering the mens restroom at 2 pm on a Wednesday. I am just that nosy.

blog OBSESSED.

Lately I find that I'm a little obsessed with my blog. Something great happens and normally I'd call my mom or C, but recently (and by recently, I mean, in the last week or so) the first thing I think is "I have to tell my BLOG." Really, who is even reading my blog? No-one probably. I'm rushing to tell a server somewhere about my life. I feel like sometimes I can read over my past blogs (and keep in mind, the majority of my blogging (2002-present) resides elsewhere on the internet and is not part of the work related drivel contained herein) and in a sense they are talking back to me. In the sense that I read them and they say "can you believe you actually thought people might care about this angsty bullshit at one time?" I'm banking on the fact that someday sheer volume of posts will culminate in some sort of complete, rich Portrait of a Blogger as a Young Woman.

I wonder how people get into these big networks of bloggers. I notice all the "famous" blogs I read are all linked in with other famous blogs, and they all read each others blogs and have blog bookdeals and attend blog conventions or whatnot.

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Today C went to the dentist for the first time in probably.....ever. I'm exaggerating of course, but it has been a while. Why are men so afraid of the dentist? I've been talking this over with some of my girlfriends, and so far this is a universal trend. This morning all I heard was how the dentist was gonna lecture him and get mad at him, and I'm wondering, what sort of dentists did all of these dentophobic men attend as young boys. I'm imagining a giant conspiracy ring of leather-clad sado-masochistic bondage dentists/dental assistants: "you didn't floss? thats thirty lashes with the tickler for you."

Some guys might be into that though, so thats a good business prospect for all those kinky girls who are also interested in dentistry.

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Abbreviations.com is a great website, and probably not blocked by websense (I was just imagining if it WAS blocked by websense; "Your network administrator has blocked the web category 'abbreviation websites'..." hahahaha) , for anydorkone who's curious about all the things your initials could stand for, or if you're immature like me you'll search "SEX" and "FUCK" and you'll find that the letters "SEX" are actually pretty useful.
For instance:
SEX is the airport code for sembach, germany.
SEX also stands for the Scientific Experimental Xylophone and Sexually Educated X-men.
FUCK isn't that interesting except for there are THREE universities with the acronym fuck, whcih is AWESOME. I don't feel like typing them, but I swear its true.

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I keep trying to open new tabs so people who walk by my office won't be able to read the embarrassing ones ("harrypotterfanfiction.com :: 50,000 HARRY POTTER STORIES" and "What does FUCK stand for?" are the most offensive/abjectly humiliating if you must know.) So now I have 12 tabs open for things like " The New York Times online" and "The Economist" Hopefully people will be so blinded by my largely intelligent web browsing that they will fail to notice my humiliating harry potter story addiction.

Ok, off to work.

Ok, I'm officially ripping a subject from another blog that I read. SORRY I'M SO UNORIGINAL AND BORING.

Anyway, Google decided to throw some sort of contest for the children of the world proper (ahem...the united states) to draw all over redesign their logo.

Here's the link:
doodle for google

My general first impression was: why the fuck did they put so many entries of the google logo made with hands. Yeah yeah, what if the world needed a helping hand. Would they turn to google for said helping hand? I think not.

All in all though, my hands down favorite was this little gem, obviously they are lacing school lunches with hallucinogens these days:

What if I can fly through the peaceful gardens freely like a butterfly? What if I could swim in the blue ocean like a beautiful mermaid? Google is like a rainbow that can take me whenever I wan to go.

yeaaaaah man....what IF I could fly through the peaceful mermaid like a beautiful garden....i mean swim in the blue butterful mercean like a freeful peace? yeahhhh

My second favorite is:

What if fish could think?

Accompanied by this artwork, which was obviously drawn by michael of florida's teacher/mother/art major at the local college:

Except now that I look at this, I'm disturbed by the fact that the fish has one human arm and decidedly humanoid features. Probably this fish can think because he's half human. So in closing, the bigger question is: What if...fish and humans melded together? That's something for you to google the next time you get bored.

If I were a unicorn.

Today I saved my old blog from doom by downloading the entirety of it (2002-present) onto my computer. At first I thought I would slowly import old blogs into this one and date them retrospectively (see labels: retrospective posts) but that got old, and now there are only a few, very random posts from the past, not at all indicative of my general mindset or state of being during those times. Now it exists only as a massive, dense block of unformatted text with smatterings of html tags throughout. I bet my children will be doing nothing short of clamoring to read it.

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I'm always super annoyed by people on the elevators at work. Perhaps today more than other days, because for the past week or so I've been exhausted and in a fog. But the thing is, there are at least eight elevators in our particular bank of elevators, servicing only floors 6-16. Thats more than one elevator per floor so WHY THE @#$% DOES EVERYONE NEED TO JAM INTO THE SAME ELEVATOR?! I know I should be a dutiful office citizen and hold the door for people who are too fucking lazy to call themselves an elevator and wait for it, but I don't. There I said it. I don't hold the elevator. I'm not even one of those people that will stand behind the closing doors and say "OOPS!" loud enough so the person who is left behind will at least think you tried.

Here's what came up when I googled "crowded elevator"...discuss:


The lumberjack depiction is pretty much my favorite, but the toy unicorn spearing what appears to be hitler is definitely a close second. If only the hitler doll was instead the middle aged secretary who today said "beep beep beep!" as she literally backed into the crowded elevator, and the unicorn doll was myself, then indeed the second depiction would be an accurate presentation of a "crowded elevator." Yes, maybe we SHOULD install a back-up warning horn on you so we can all be on the lookout for you when you back your ass into the elevator.





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