Vetti Betty

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Every morning, I wake up and sit in the van.
I make a little speech to myself- YES I CAN!

I can sit today for 8 hours on a chair,
and buzz NR about Mandodari's hair.

I can rotate on my chair and ideate
about torture systems for people I hate.

I can edit stories about blue men and monkey kings,
while chatting on Gtalk among other things.

I can dial extension numbers on my LAN,
and hang up on people because I can.

I can write rejection letters in pretty words,
and research wikipedia for trivia on birds.

I can write ads with words like Dhamaka in gold,
and say 'thank you' with grace when the idea is sold.

I can shake my leg like a thayal machine,
because in my cubicle, I rest unseen.

I can say Yeehaw how many ever times
and make little pigs heroes in my rhymes.

I can make S cry and be a bitchy boss:
the ends justify the means for a lofty cause.

I can go to Ode Cafe and chat with the ducks,
while drinking lemon-water for sixty bucks.

I can watch my stat counter like I have OCB,
while analyzing every spam mail I get to see.

I can get tired of Office Funny jokes,
and the collective ugliness of all these blokes.

I can, at the Marketing department, once again yell,
for never reading the magazine they are trying to sell.

I can weep at the traffic and the terrible roads,
I can hold my breath till my head explodes.

I can hope to die in my chair today,
so tomorrow I can go on holiday.