Crazy going slowly am I?

I've found that my ability to entertain myself at work has diminished greatly over the last few months.

I mean, how many times can I take my own picture? How many times can I troll Craigslist missed connections? How long can I really hide in the bathroom? Will I not eventually get bored of writing blog entries just for my own entertainment? Yes, I will get bored. Today may have been a cracking point.

Really, this isn't the first time I've ended up this bored. There was that week a few months back when Ted and Rochelle went to Milan for business and Lauren was on vacation, I had nothing to do then. I was so bored I started singing little songs to myself (in my head of course) to stay occupied. There was also the time when I got sent to the hole for trying to organize an escape from the prison camp I was in. I just kept throwing that baseball against the wall and catching it to keep sane. Then I escaped by motorcycle, but the Nazi's shot me to death... Oh wait.

My friend Emily used to write me all the time from Chicago. She too had a job that didn't require the full extent of her ability, but then she got all uppity and decided to go to law school. Sell out. My friend Rachel was in the same camp, but then she got promoted and now she's got no time for inane email chatter.
I've played games at work, not solitaire or anything, made up games. Sometimes I play the same song over and over again for hours to see how long it takes someone to notice. They don't. Other times I'll recite rap lyrics under my breath, my favorite being "Get Low" featuring the Ying Yang Twins. No one notices that either... and probably for the best considering how dirty it is. Aw skeet skeet mother fucker, aw skeet skeet goddamn.

Should I try and get a new job? Should I just give in to the mundane existence I'm living? I'm having to face facts that my life is pretty... dare I admit it... average. I'm no jet setting socialite. I don't summer. I have no wealth of art to claim creation of. Where's the saving grace? Where's my Fight Club? The closest I have now is the Book Club I'm part of.

I'm getting stuck in the middle of being a tall, average white guy in New York City. Maybe I should start wearing alligator shirts tucked into khaki shorts. Should I become a sports fan, so that when I'm bored at work I can obsessively read scores and stats about my favorite squadron of athletes?

No, I think it's time to pony up and take charge of things. If my life is going to be mundane and normal then I guess I have to alter that. I guess I'll pick up an affect. Maybe a slight British accent, or a love of obscure 60's rock bands. Perhaps I'll get really into tea, and talk about different types of tea, and how tea is better than coffee. I could never really do that last one, I can't turn my back on coffee like that.

Oh well, in reality I'll probably just keep working here, going nuts, until my career blows up. Then all of you (Rob, Emily and Charlie... my readers) can say you knew me back when I was working at Clinique, writing blogs and listening to M.O.P.'s "Ante Up" as loud as I think I can get away with at work.

P.s.
Whoever said I was too cute to smell like cigs, ante up. My fragile ego doesn't deal well with anonymity... unless you're a crazy stalker. If you're a crazy stalker I can deal with your anonymity just fine.