Good times, noodle salad

Finally, the day has come to pull up a trash can, drag my arm across my desk and clear out all my papers for the next poor sucker who gets to sit in my office chair.


It's a euphoric feeling, much like the ending of The Shawshank Redemption, when Tim Robbins spends two decades using a rock hammer to dig a tunnel from his prison cell through feces to freedom outside of the penitentiary walls.

Not that I am two decades deep into this job (thank God), but there are people here who are and I can't imagine what life would be like 20 years later at a place like this. I would probably end up having a hardcore drinking problem as I dabble in other excesses and promiscuities and slip deeper into depression, like some poster child for an upcoming Intervention episode. In other words, I'm saving myself by leaving. The last seven months have been (un)comfortably numb, and it's time to wake up from being comatose.

Plus I don't want to find myself one day in a car with a bunch of people complaining about the problems in our lives. I want good times and noodle salad, and these I will have.





I am officially Audi 5-thou!