It's good this day is almost over. We're all a little over the edge in here. Earlier today Brenda-the-advertising-lady pointed out a creepy little baby doll sitting against the glaringly orange side of the bowling alley across the street. Just sitting there all propped up and looking alone and freaky. I went across the street and took a photo of it.
Then Clinton scooped us on a stupid assault story. It causes a lot of agitation in the newsroom when we get scooped by the Clinton paper. It has an ugly front page, by the way.
Lunchtime came, and Emily and I relieved tension by standing in the parking lot, slapping our asses and whooping. It is considered proper form among journalists to whack the buttocks and yell "Now THAT'S what I'M talking about!!!" as a way of letting off steam. Michael came out and planted a huge puddle of spittle in the middle of my windshield. I turned on the wipers and gagged a little. Then I doused it with windshield cleaner.
When we returned to the newsroom, the creepy baby was mysteriously sitting on top of the file cabinet in the newsroom. It now hangs from the ceiling.
Safina (also in the ad department) came into the newsroom and said she hoped she could make it to the Clinton hospital before having her baby. Brenda (the receptionist) just called and she's still in labor.
Now it's almost time to proof the front and jump...thank heavens. I'm still grumpy.