Head Basketball Coach

I must admit that I am disappointed that I - or my people - were never contacted about the Arizona Men's Head Basketball Coach. Well, it could be because a day in the life of my last job consisted of the following:

• 7:30 - 7:45: stumble to my desk, check email to see how much trouble I DIDN'T cause; usually whatever I did caused problems and whatever I didn't do caused problems, and I never found out until it was time to pass out raises - I felt like Milton waiting for his piece of cake
• 8:00 - 9:15: 'browse' the internet-this is a very broad 'surf' as it is a LONG day; it ranges from espin to UK message boards to youtube clips until the bastards shut it down - those freakin' bastard suns-a-biches! After that, it was adultswim, but they took that away too - that was the last straw
• 9:15 - 10:00: make my way, along with some of me fellow sheep, across the street for a morning feeding and to catch up on sportscenter (I didn't want to run the risk of my eyesight deteriorating from staring at a computer monitor for so long, causing my former employer to pay millions in damages, so I took a break, a much needed break; plus, I didn't want Matt Damon and Clair Danes to find true love again in the made-for-tv-movie about my case) they should never have taken adultswim, they took youtube, but they should've left adultswim, the production we say they lost, but never really lost 'cause we were never gonna do anything anyway, but they took it, they took adultswim, and that was the last straw)
• 10:00 - 10:02: check to see if any new work-email arrived; this way I can print and file them appropriately so that I don't leave the next bee vertically limited in a body of water without a means of motion, just my way of showing that I don't really care)
• 10:02 - 11:59: 'browse' internet in more detail; by this time, the sun has risen in the west and there are Frisky Dingo clips to view, ah, the Frisky Dingo clips - they freakin' took adultswim, those mother-freakin' whorish bastards, I didn't crawl through the muck and see my buddies lay head first .. i'm finishin' my coffee, i'm finishin' my dam coffee)
• 11:59 - 12:36: walk around to see what everyone was doing for lunch; not necessarily my initial trek through the farm, but one that usually occurred each day at this time - it was for a very important purpose, who else - besides us - was going to make sure that the rest of the farm got their nourishment - who, who I ask?)
• 12:36 - 1:09: walk across street to purchase lunch (if needed); sometimes, when the stars were aligned in the shape of a hanger (sorry Kyle), everyone would have prepared their lunch, thus dismissing the need for a venture to the outside for afternoon nourishment
• 1:09 - 2:21: lunch in the lunchroom; ...eh, not enough time
• 2:21 - 2:29: walk, mentally handicapped, back to the 4th floor; this could be a result of sitting in the same position for so long in a very uncomfortable chair telling tales of yester-year when I was a young lad, but it wasn't
• 2:29 - 2:54: check to see any if any 'new' internet musings have surfaced; by this time, the morning happenings have usually been made available to the masses, and before those suns-a-biches peed on my f#*kin' rug, I would excitedly rush to my hay stack for the newest Venture Bros. - they peed on my f#*kin' rug, they peed on my f#*kin' rug
• 2:54 - 3:18: complete daily work 'crap'; there comes a time in every job when you just have to suck it up and get something done because there are bills to be paid and mouths to feed, unfortunately, that dam spider sings her words of a grown-up world, dam bich and her freakin guilt trip
• 3:18 - 3:42: walk across street for much needed break; please reference the morning break for purpose; this was usually to a different barn, if you will, as variety can sometimes be a good thing, we weren't hungry, just looking for something out of the ordinary - a bum, a midget, a former coworker.
• 3:42 - 3:57: last internet check @ work, close up shop; alas, the day comes to a close; I wrap up any articles I have been reading, check one last time to see of the Sports Guy posted anything new, and then close down my little hay stack, i'm free to leave what trouble I have caused - or haven't - and make the trek to my mo-bile, and then home
• 3:57: this is Rome - I'm out (I HATE that guy, I mean Chris Evert should have laid him out!)

DISCLAIMER: this is a fictional day-in-the-life, written through the eyes of a weary, sinus-infected fictional character.