Solitary Confinement

Have job, am locked away in the middle of nowhere in a small room by myself with nothing but a computer, an overactive air conditioner, and a shitload of data to enter. The firewall won't let me read my email or do anything nice except read and update my blog. I have nothing to say, except that I hate working and look forward to lunchtime freedom. Data entry makes me want to die and I go all brer rabbit on them. "Have you ever done data entry before?" they ask... bastards. One finger at a time, I'll do it. In between changing every "the" in every document on the shared drive to "bananaramadingdong," I'll enter how many sick days poor Bobby McGee took in 2004.