Trying something out here:

Super Lion Energy Drink. 250 millileters of power.

Super Lion is a product of Malaysia. It (the drink, not Malaysia) looks and tastes like Red Bull, only more so and better, and it has an awesome pouncing lion on the can.

Feelings of indescribable whatever wash over me in purple melodious waves. Like an ocean of amber liquid lapping at the shores of omniscience. My heart goes thud thud thud in my head head head.

I feel as though the secrets of the universe should be unfolding before me, but they are not and that is fine with me. I don't want to be nosy with the universe, if it leaves me alone I won't bother it either. The brain-heart thudding transitions into a sort of pleasant balmy nausea. My soul is replete, the cubicle in which I sit extends to all corners of the state, bounded on the west by the cresting Red River between Katie & Erin's desks, the Mississippi slides through the middle then hooks right over Tara's stapler. It's too bad they aren't here to see this. It's fucking awesome.

I won't take any sass-talk today, no prevarications. But that would be strange. NO sass talk? What-so-whom-ever? No quasi-semi-lies? That seems unlikely. I will reconsider. But I will listen to the bullshit with an arrogant sneer on my face! That will help!

And it does. It works. It works and it helps and it works. It is good to be fooled, it is safe and comforting. And even though I don't really buy it, I have plausible deniability -- I know nothing! I see nothing! -- which is important.

Now I will eat my hot & sour noodle soup. It is the soup of righteousness and of valor. My blood pressure will be raised by a power of ten and I will cavort with angels and demons in a field of post it notes and red foam #1 fingers.