It's Friday and the newsroom is afflicted with a strange form of kerosene induced dementia because for some reason the pressroom people think they need to stay warm so they fire up an ancient heater that reeks and kicks the noxious vapors right into our sanitarium.
Brenda is broadcasting "drunk squirrel" from her cell phone. I'm sick on hot buffalo wing Bugles and trying to figure out a way to plug my nose and ears with rolled up notebook paper. Kirbs is crunching ice. Jeff is verbally poking at Patti and I offered to kick him in the neck. Patti is alternately yelling...then bursting into manic laughter. The ad department folks are poking their heads around the corner to see what the ruckus is about. Ryan just walked in with his ear to his cell phone (he's interviewing for a story) and promptly walked back out because it's too loud to hear anything in here. Brenda just asked the newsroom "did you guys drink at lunch or something?"