I sit in the worst place. Seriously. Not only are the death rays highly unpleasant, but here in the newsroom we have calculated that if a shooter comes in the front door to take out the writers (we make a lot of people very angry, especially when we report on their evil deeds) - I will be the first to go down. Jeff and Patty can simply scramble under their desks while the first bullets fly, or they can make a quick exit up the stairs to the attic. Ryan is second in line for the mayhem, but he said he would throw his big camera at the assailant then dive through the plate glass window to take him out. Ryan promises he'll chuck the camera and break the glass before the bad guy can get a shot off. I feel better.
Currently, however, the dear boy is spitting out quotes from "The Family Guy." We are both finished writing for the day - but now poor Patty has to slap all those words on the pages while we entertain ourselves with various means until it's time to do the proofing.
Not the prettiest time of day in the newsroom.