The Shoutbox
So tasty.
spam, spam, spam, spam!
Ahhhhhh, the sweet taste of spam in the evening!
All right. Everybody gone home for the day? Good, cuz the night janitor is here with a hip full of keys and 4 hours of deep Clapton cuts.

Do I have a 4Loco poured in to a gas station cup? When don't I?
They closed the campus to workers for tomorrow but said to work remotely. I took a vacation day. I swore after Apple that work would never again enter my personal space.
It's the only logical explanation
I imagine that cult from the 9th Gate doing their cult thing at the end. Then after all their hocus pocus to summon powers from evil underworlds, out poofs a kitty, from an uninspiring puff of smoke, that delicately prances across a casio synthesizer that everyone forgot about, off in the corner. Probably left over gear from their earlier praise and worship session.
conjures piano cat in tha mentals