Self hypnosis

I knew this day would come.



No, not that. We still have a few years at least. I meant working on the first draft of my final paper. The problem is, aside from having to write the damn thing, and in French no less, that I'm currently stuck at work. Thus, how to fend off the crowd of would-be autodidacts and drunken students on a bathroom search whose true goal is constant interruption of yours truly?

"What about this?"


















The two turntables are upstairs and a microphone is down here.

"So that's where it's at. [LAUGH TRACK] Do we have a copy of this?"
















No, I checked. And no use ordering it, I need this done today.

"What about hiring a professional?"

I checked that, too, and the only ones available on such short notice are --















-- Kevin Spacey, who's a wee bit out of my price range, and --













-- Mooselini, and I'm afraid she might hypnotize me into thinking I'm McFossil.

"Aside from the trophy wife and warmongering tendencies, that'll be you in a few decades anyway."

Oh, why did the Democrats cross the road?

So they could say they embraced change.

Bwahahahahaha. Thank you, I'll be here through Saturday, be sure to tip your hypnotist.