Chunk love Sloth.

I don’t know how much the rest of you slag off during work hours. Me, I go balls to the wall on work-related stuff for about five hours a day. The rest of time is spent writing out grocery lists, harassing Cigna about their quote unquote coverage, updating myself on the state of Britney Spears’ marriage to K-Fed or working on freelance. As I write this post, it’s 10:47 a.m. on Thursday morning, and I have no less than 11 things on my work to-do list.

Take yesterday afternoon, for instance. I spent two hours browsing Zappos in search of the perfect pair of summer shoes. I found two contenders. This pair here seemed to say, “I country club, chase my Zoloft with gin and tonics, and leaf through my lawyer husband’s copy of ‘Juggs’ while masturbating on the wicker chaise in my sunroom.” But I also found myself drawn to the organic earthiness of this pair, which said, “My girlfriend says my snootch tastes like tuna-flavored tofu and Cherry Garcia ice cream. And no, I didn’t shave my arm pits for this occasion.”

Oooh, how delicious. I just realized that both pairs of shoes are lesbians! As if shopping during work time on a work computer using a work connection wasn’t naughty enough, I have to up the ante and find me some luscious lesbo shoes. Perfect!

Now, before you get all up in my grill about pulling my weight (which would literally be impossible without a team of Clydesdales), I must put forth my hypothesis, which justifies, at least in my mind, all of the above said activity. I refer to it as untitled’s Law of Relativity: untitled’s five hours of work X my stress-fueled efficiency = everyone else’s calm eight hours of work. Squared. My hypothesis, or law – whatever – is supported by the fact that here at my job, I really do have a great reputation. I still manage to churn out a staggering amount of work. No one would ever think I’m doing what I do half the time.

Yes, I feel guilty at times (eyes batting, lips pouting). I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I simply cannot work until I’ve completed my daily allotment of non-work – tasks that will neither further my career or my productivity, and which may in fact do just the opposite.

Living this duplicitous life requires me to practice a variety of masking techniques. For example, I take care to have one or two safety windows open on my computer at all times – applications I can click to in a second’s notice, in case someone scuffles by or god forbid, stops by my cube for something work-related.

But every now and then, my browser locks and I am left scurrying, looking for a way – any way – to close the cursed window displaying the photo of Tara Reid’s floppy flapjack popping out of her party dress or something equally as salacious and embarrassing. Usually, the person innocently passes by, leaving me to clean up the mess resulting from me shitting myself.

Well, I’d better wrap it up. Even though I’m writing a post, I am doing so in Word, which is a program I also use for work. So technically, this is work, and frankly, I’ve already put in my five hour-quota. OK four hours. OK OK! Three. Happy now? The depths you drag me to, people.

12 thoughts on “Chunk love Sloth.”

  1. Zappos.com–shoe porn for shoe whores.

    You know the lesbo shoes–you have to buy both pairs. They need each other, y’know.

  2. I dunno, the lesbian shoes can stand on their own, it’s the girly shoes that must travel in packs.

    Also? Have you tried screaming, “Minimize! Minimize for God’s sake!” right as your boss passes by? Certainly takes the focus off of your computer screen, and firmly on your sanity.

  3. Well, considering your blog takes up the better part of MY day, you have made my productivity to the company an all new LOW. However, being the accountant, I seem to get more lee-way. If the boss questions, I mention to him that I am horribly underpaid and I haven’t taken a vacation in two years.
    Nice sandals. Go with BOTH!

  4. Whatever “sloth” you commit is justified as long as you keep blogging so we can read it.

  5. When I was younger and worked, I kept a spotless house, the laundry was done and put away, food got cooked. Now that we are “retired”, the laundry piles up, the dust is shin deep, we eat out.

    We actually do about 4 hours of productive whatever each day, it just doesn’t always pretain to what NEEDS to be done. Hell, I gotta go garden, paint something, sew something, look at something FIRST.

  6. Have you been peering over my shoulder? This is exactly how my work day is spent. It’s now 2:24 p.m., and my work day started at 7 and ended around 1, with some sporadic bursts of productivity for about 10-15 minutes after that.

  7. Heh. I’m suddenly not feeling so bad for my work to internet-usage ratio. Personally, I end up blog surfing or writing ridiculously long emails to my girlfriend (she’s 8,000 miles away so it’s justified) all day.

    It’s how I found you.

    And fun stuff like THIS!

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