What brains? All I need is that black sexy dress from LV

I'm slowly disintegrating into my seat. Boredom, like a hungry predator, eats into my soul with malicious intent. I feel that I am slowly fading into nothingness. In the short and brief span of two weeks, I've become the expert of the Net. Why? Because I've surfed through every inch and corner of the World Wide Web, all the while pretending to look busy. I'm all-important, really, the company cannot survive without me. I've got tons of work waiting to be done, the work piles up on my desk, they are all screaming for my attention, it's 13.8 inches in diameter and weighs about a ton. Alas, it is all but an illusion.

I've scoured the WWW for everything under the sun, from Stephanie Sun lyrics to furthering my education overseas. Oh, really, I shouldn't have. Misuse of company property (not to mention time) is not such a nice thing to do, is it?

But, I'm bored to death!!! Which confirms my suspicion that I'm not really your average cubicle rat cut out for a 9-5 job. Damn. Give me a 9-12 midnight job any day.

No. I'm joking. Really.

Who actually reads my blog? No one. I haven't told anyone about my blog. Yet.

And, after just two weeks (I'm into my 3rd), I recalled my first day of work. When you are being introduced to your colleagues on your first day of work or for the first time, usually the person introducing you would say something like this, or something that borders alone those unspoken lines:

"This is so-and-so. She will be here with us for the next _ mths/years.

(to fellow colleagues) Please help her along the way.

(to you) If there's anything you are not sure, you can check with them."

Well, don't misunderstand me. I was given the above proper introduction. It was only after that, the man introducing me announced to his fellow colleagues...

"Cheap labour. Hahahahahahahahaha."

His comment seemed perfectly all right to me. I wasn't offended or anything. In fact, I even smiled when he said that. But, now when I think back to that incident, I think, "I'm only cheap labour. Damn."

Ok, anyway, that brings me to the question of Office Politics. You know, no matter how much you work or pretend (in most instances, both) to curry the boss's favour, if the boss doesn't like your face/nose/mouth/chin/legs/double chin/nostrils, that's it man, you are never going to get that promotion you've been eyeing for the past few years. So clean up your drool now, and get back to work.

Which brings me to the interesting question in hand: currying the boss favour. Here are some tips:

(This only applies if you are female, and your boss is male)
Note: I'm not being sexist here, but most MNCs have guys at the top of the corporate ladder...and oh no! I'm not demeaning girls here. I'm a feminist. Really.
It's actually pretty simple, really. There's this lady at my office, with a sexy figure and slutty personality. No guess as to how she gets her promotions. Or how old the boss is, for that matter.

My ex-colleague just sent me an email, which went something like this, "You should come back here. We all really miss you." Awwwwww...but down there, I work like, what, OT every two weeks, which adds up to 8 1/2 hr days, and a 12+ hrs day per fortnight! What I cannot cannot stand the most is, I come home at like 11 or 12 midnight when I'm working the night shift, and I come back to a dark, scary house, and my maid receives me at the door with sleepy eyes, and heat up my dinner. I eat dinner by myself late, late at night, and all I have for company is the occassional cricket chirp. See? I just managed to paint such a pitiful image of myself. Working there, for the first time ever, I lost my social life. Not that I had any in the first place.