Great balls of boredom

As hour seven of fourteen total captive meeting hours approaches think both my mind and body are giving up on me. An accountant slash computer programmer is speaking at a hundred miles per hour with bursts up to one fifty about a dry and boring subject. C R ap! I type this in-between fake attentive head nods as I am located in her sight line. I would kill the guy next to me for a nap. That’s not such a bold statement because I can’t stand the idiot and would probably get some kind of award from the class.

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