Y'know what's funny, that kinda helped.

Why the primal typing rage? Why do I feel a mixture of frustration and agonizing anxiety?

Let me tell you a story. This is a story of a man and his two lab assistants. No, it's really the story of a man and two human-sized gerbils who happened to speak english.

One day a mighty wizard proclaimed that the man would take these two gerbils and, with them, analyze data and answer some questions. The man was confident, for he had seen these horrors before.

The first day began. The man analyzed data, making graphs, and doing things science people do.

Yet the gerbils were unsure, afraid. The gerbils began to debate with him, declaring that this wording was wrong, or this particular graph looked wrong.

6 hours passed...and lo the first day was done.

The second day came and the man crunched numbers with speed and grace. The gerbils came tumbling in, sniffing at the screen expectantly. More debating, more hours, and several headaches later, the project was almost complete...yet not.

Now it was the man that did all the graphs, the writing, and the analyzing, while the gerbils happily criticized him. Not fair to me, but they'd screw the whole thing up.

I don't give a right damn at the moment how pretentious or arrogant that sounds, because I wish to shave these particular gerbils at the moment. We won't even get into my want of playing hockey or contacting Richard Gere right now...

I have too much work to do. I haven't had any free time this weekend and it's chaffing my hide. I keep seeing numbers swimming by my head like drunk schools of fish.

I need to lie down, but I'm in a computer lab. I could lay down under one of the cubicles and put some stuff on the desk, make people think that someone is already sitting there.

Hm, yes, that'll work well. I'm going to whimper now and hope the bad men stop.

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