Take this job and shove it.

Well it's been two months, so we're moving again. Across the street this time. And while it's dandy to threaten minimum wage, furlough everyone (I now spend every other Friday on my futon watching Martha Stewart make things out of pipe cleaners), and lay a bunch of people off to conserve cash when some asshole lawyer can't pass a budget, there's not an issue in sight with spending thousands upon thousands of dollars bouncing us around like ping pong balls for no reason other than to separate me from Hostess cupcake-wielding I.T. Guy.

The new building will be staffed only with some middle-aged woman I.T. Guy. While that may turn some people on here, it just doesn't do it for me. And apparently it nearly burned down a few months ago when someone had an aquarium mishap, so I'm guessing it's chock full of dead people as well. If the 3-dimensional douchebags in the area are any indication, the other-wordly ones will be just as fucking intolerable.

As God as my witness, this is the last time I empty out a supply cabinet and restock it in this incarnation. The next person to suggest otherwise will get a Swingline stapler planted firmly in their ass.