So here we are again at P (publish) minus two hours, and I have fuck all to show for it.
I’ve been crouching in my boyfriend’s chair working on a proposal all night.
I’ve also been watching 30 Rock and I’m really concerned with how evil Liz is.
Just tonight, she’s taken advantage of her adoption agency representative’s head injury, read a guy’s mail so that she can get closer to him, and almost ruined a young couple’s relationship so that she could adopt their baby when everything fell apart. She’s like a bizarro Leslie Knope.
The reason I’m in Ben’s chair is because my back hurts like a fuckball. There’s a knot of pain about four inches above my right butt cheek and it’s starting to spread down my leg and I hate it, but I have to get this work done and I need to be sitting to do it.
Oh God, I’m going to have to build myself a standing desk, aren’t I?
Poop.
Ben’s chair does not help, by the way. I mean, it extended the amount of time that I can actually sit here and work, but that wasn’t nearly long enough. For real, nothing relieves this pain, people.
