Max Riffner

The Parlor

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Report

I’m writing a report at work. It’s refreshing to do something different than stare at code or Photoshop all day. Much of it is like a term paper, and sadly, I had the sudden realization that in school, I subconciously loved writing term papers and taking essay tests. This, of course, hit me around three o’clock in the afternoon, the time when all insight occurs to you. The rest of the day is spent pondering something you wouldn’t ordinarily ponder that much. However, since you are tired and want to go home anyway, your mind over-analyzes such things to the nth degree. In the end, you have a really lame story of self-discovery to go home and blather to your loved one while they stare at what is left of the person they once loved.

I’m Mr. Happy-poofs today.

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