Boy, git my stabbin knife. -OR- Today is Bayou Day

I would really love to work in a swamp. Yesterday after I posted that thing about the corpse of Wells and the swampfolk, I read the bungie profile of the new swamp level. And I got all euphoric and giddy, as if soon I’d be stumbling around the mud while Bayou Billy chased me around with his stabbin knife. (Boy, git ma stabbin knife!) Just now I was scooting around on my chair between cubicals, looking down the aisle, and realized how excellent it would be to flood this place. Like, if the lighting was darker, the floor less carpet-y and more muddy and soggy, and the people were replaced by crocodiles. Yeahhhh.

Darker lighting in general would be nice. At a party in northsomething Iowa—Wells was there—the house owning guy whipped out a fog machine late in the night. Holy crap, it was great. I’m drunk! People are playing music! There is a guitar on the wall. THERE’S SMOK EVERYWHERE!

That was Sarah’s brother’s house.

Today I’m supposed to find a job for a lady who can’t type more than about 15-20 wpm. She wants to be a transcriptionist. Why?!