CAKE

Did you know that in an office this big at any given point a clerical hunter-gatherer can find cake somewhere? (Sort of like the fact that at any given point in time and space there is a Beatles song playing on the radio, most likely 'Hey Jude') My cubemate and I just scored some baby-shower cake. The cake is rather nasty. Office cake always is. And yet the natives, for lack of any other distraction, hunt it down, consume it, and then waste at least twenty minutes discussing why they shouldn't have eaten it in the first place. At least according to my recent field notes.

And now I have to carve my way through three inches of extraneous toothpaste icing to get to the chocolate in this congratulations-you-had-or-will-have-a-baby cake, and I will probably make myself ill, and the flourescent lights are starting to flicker, and I'm ... so... cold...