on funkdom and reward

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Did you ever have to sit in a small office with someone who, as the day wears on, begins to smell like a bag of rotten barbque potato chips or maybe like the underside of a lizard’s foot or just plain ol’ BO?  Ever have to do this to the point that the funk is no longer evident because you’ve been smelling it all day long to the point that, once you finally get home, you start to smell it again and you think that maybe it’s you that stinks, but it can’t be, because you are a clean person, you take showers regularly and use deodarant and other things to keep your body from funking.  Ever start to worry about those poor cells in your nose that have taken on said funk and cannot let go, even when you are far away from the source of the funk?  Ever want to take a butter knife and start digging around in there just to get the funk out because the smell reminds you of the person with the funk and thinking of that person reminds you of work and thinking of work reminds you that you hate your job and when you think about how much you hate your job, you start to think about that really cool job you just applied for and you begin to wonder if you’ll get it, if you’re really good enough for it, if you have done enough with your life to be rewarded–finally rewarded–with something so damned cool? 

Ever wonder about that? 

I do. 



Author: Kim Sharp

more later

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