Another sweltering day in a gray-and-pink, seventy-five degree hell. My only thoughts are of turning down the thermostat. Every time I begin to develop a thought, the heat prickle on my forehead tells me it’s time to attack the thermostat again.
Even worse, the dolt in the cubicle next to me keeps muttering lyrics to some song with a “Boom-chakalaka” refrain. Quite often these days the dead look like appealing alternatives to the living.
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4 comments:
I think that's a grade school cheer, actually. Are they doing toe touches too? That makes for good times at work...
GO TEAM!
Where is your office? Is that Koreatown?
Actually, my office is in an unused section of the Herald Examiner Building in Downtown Los Angeles. As I have previously noted, the Building Maintenance is a bit uneven, but there is plenty of parking (not that I have a car) and vintage vending machines in the basement that sell candy cigarettes and a zesty peanut-carob-cheese pretzel mix.
Sarah--I was unaware of the song's grade-school origins. I'd assumed the phrase "gonna bump my mama" which my office-mate inserts between the "boom-chakalaka"s was some kind of euphemism. In light of your comments, however, it's probably no more lascivious than that grade-school favorite, HOP ON POP.
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