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Only losers take breaks. I am a loser ...................Paul Ryan
Break time. Time for a break. What the hell kind of a break is this? I still have to type something, for Christ's sake. It's like a pseudo break. A quasi break. An ersatz break. A break, sans break. A synthetic break. Wait a second . . . synthetic? That doesn't work. This damn thesaurus is full of crap. The TV. Ah yes, the TV. It's a 13" TV/VCR combo with stickers all over it. Nothing really meaningful, just whatever stickers I've gotten for free with a pair of shoes or whatever else. For some reason, I just can't bring myself to waste a free sticker. Speaking of stickers, if you really want to gross out your friends, put a sticker up your Another break. Wow, that was fast. This must be what it's like to work as a politician. What do politicians do in their offices all day, anyway? I've never seen a politician who answered their own phone, responded personally to letters, or voted any differently than their party wants them too. So what the hell do they do all day? Drink bourbon? Man, my career choice sucks. Um, what the . . . oh, the TV. Right. The old TV is in my bedroom, and the new TV is in the living room. When I'm in the living room, I can hear everything the people downstairs are doing, and I mean everything, even when they're Why do I call it "the living room"? My apartment only has two freakin' rooms. There's the bedroom and the other room. Perhaps I could put up a curtain in the middle of the living room and call half of it the den. Perhaps I could put a small cardboard box in my 4 ft. x 4 ft. kitchen and call it a breakfast nook. Perhaps I could dunk my head in the toilet and call it an aquatic center. Perhaps I could run around my floor beating up other people and taking over their apartments. Perhaps this break has gone long enough. The TV, the TV, the TV. Oh yes, the TV! I turned on the TV the other night, and after five seconds, the TV turned itself off. I checked the plug, and it was fine. I checked the controller, and it was fine. It's like there's a ghost This shouldn't just be my break. This is your break too, so let's role play and pretend we're super heroes. I'll start. *Ahem* Hello! I'm "Social Anxiety Disorder Man", and I'm here to . . . oh God, you're looking at me. Please, just don't . . . it makes me very uncomfortable when you look at me. No! Quit staring at me! FOR GOD'S SAKE, DON'T TOUCH MY ARM! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TOUCHING MY ARM!! AHHH! AHHHHH! NO TOUCHY BAD! I'M IN THE FETAL POSITION, THAT MEANS I WANT TO BE ALONE! ALONE!!! DON'T FREAKIN' TOUCH ME! Okay, that was fun. Now it's your turn. Now I'm constantly afraid the TV will turn itself on while I'm sleeping, and make infomercials into some sort of subliminal message where I wake up with the urge to purchase salad shooters and complete sets of rare mint condition Canadian Football League trading cards. Speaking of Canada, Alex Trebek has a goiter the size of This is my last break. Do you think the boss will notice if I totally skip out and leave? If he asks, I could tell him I had a meeting or something. Either way, at least I can't get yelled at for not writing my column. I wrote 273 words of actual column today. The mindless goobers who read this thing won't notice the difference.
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NOTE: recent studies find that taking short, frequent breaks while working helps improve performance. In light of this, Paul will take short, frequent breaks throughout today's column.
