Sometimes it's hard to be funny. You always feel the pressure to make other people laugh, to say the intelligent things faster than the one other funny-but-not-original person in the room, to not laugh too hard at your own wit, to swiftly calculate the number of mormons in the room and the number of times your joke has a wiener euphemism and adjust accordingly. But what people don't understand is that Mondays are the worst, even for the funny person in the office. Like today, coworkers keep coming to my desk and standing there as if they're expecting a great joke about dijon mustard, but it's Monday! My eyes are just as red rimmed as yours. My motivation is also non existent. I'm just a lady trying to get her goddamn work done and go home. Sometimes I wonder how the world sees me? What is it about my face that makes them expect and demand hilarity? I fear I'll never know.
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