I am soooo sick of sitting in a *cubicle* (definition: a doorless, padded jail cell that serves as your eternal personal hell with flourescent lighting) watching the clock wondering if this day is over yet, day after day until it's payday, pretending to work while they're pretending to pay me, pokerfacing my friends who call their bosses jerks in the break room. Why do I think I want a career when all I want is what my paycheck can buy me? I'm not going to waste away here waiting for retirement 30 years away... mark my words, in 3 years I'll be creating careers and giving out paychecks. I will succeed in spite of my management. I am the rat poison and the cure. I am the Phat Phelix.