Even though I have an office job, “meetings” do not dominate my schedule the way they probably do most office workers. In my two plus years in this work environment, I say I’ve had to endure being trapped in a meeting maybe only one hour a week on average.

However, for the past two weeks I have had an endless caravan of meetings to attend. I would consider these meetings a pleasant change from my daily routine if not for the fact they are so terribly, terribly unpleasant.

I equate meetings to Chinese Water Torture. A drop of water repeatedly hitting you on the forehead may seem like nothing at first. But after a few hours, it begins to irritate you. And after a few days, well, you become insane.

“But wait,” you might be thinking. “If meetings are like Chinese Water Torture, and a few days of it drives you insane, what happens after two weeks??”

An excellent question.

Before I respond, allow me to first lay down my stapler and tape dispenser for their afternoon nap. Those two get super grouchy if they don’t get their beauty sleep.

Speaking of naps, have you ever been in the middle of washing your hair with peanut butter when you realize you forgot to buy conditioner? See, that is why you should always have a list with you when you go to the store. What good is peanut butter without mustard?

When I was a boy I thought like a boy and acted like a boy. But when I became a man I took that boy out back and had him shot.

Hillary would make an excellent President. And Bill would make a wonderful First Lady.

The pencil on my desk is taunting me. Let’s see how he likes it when I remove his eraser. Who’s the “stupidhead” now, big shot?

Have you ever noticed that whenever I go “insane” my grammar remains impeccable? And how is that I can remember the username and password for my blog?

Sssshhhh! Keep it down. They’ll hear you. Who are “they,” you ask? Sssshhhh! We can’t talk here.

If eyes are the window to the soul, why does it sting so badly when I spray them with Windex?

I’m not good at geography, but I’m pretty sure the capital of Montana isn’t Hannah.

My apologies, I’ve gotten off track. I’m always doing that. It’s like that time Mayor McCheese gave me the key to McDonaldland, and during my acceptance speech I kept asking, “what happened to Grimace?”

Anyway, could you please repeat the question? I have another meeting in 10 minutes.

The people over at humor-blogs are in cahoots with my stapler.