But we digress again. I was unhappily sitting at my job this week, reflecting on my current employment status and wishing I were in Atlanta raising hell in Hussy Headquarters. And more piercing than fingernails down a chalkboard and more nerve-penetrating that Britney Spears' nasal vocals. Not to mention that it is NOT flattering at all. It's a good thing we carry that fab Hussy glow from within, just in case of bad lighting emergencies.
Brown bag lunches.
I have such sympathy for poor rats forced to find their way through those mazes in labs. My guess is a mega portion of his brain cells have been sacrificed to those exhaust fumes . Or he is terminally ticked off at the world because he is forced to actually live in that garage because he can't find his way out. General corporate absurdity. For example, my building has no 13th floor.