Things That Make Me Die Inside, Vol. 8: Baby Pooh

It has been a while since I talked about any of the crazies here at the office. Sorry. I'm sort of paranoid that they will somehow find out about my blog and smother me in my sleep. Or bite me and then I'll turn into a crazy too. In their defense, I also haven't written about them recently because they have acted considerably less crazy recently and considerably more normal. Perhaps Hell has frozen over?

Anyway, I just overheard Winnie the Pooh talking to some visitor about BABIES and how she "forcibly" (I can only imagine what this means...there was probably knife-wielding involved) told her husband that they need to wait until she finishes taking classes at the local community college before he can knock her up. UGHHHHHH! The thought of Winnie and her Trekkie hubby (both of whom are in their 30s and have been married for seven months) being parents is more than I can handle this early in the morning. Their children would love everything that was either tacky, Disney, or Star Trek/Star Wars-themed. I fear for their unborn offspring, I really do.
UPDATE at 3:32pm: Winnie just told three more people (who just happened to be passing by her desk and talking about the big convention next summer) that she hopes to time her impending pregnancy so that she is in her third trimester when our big convention rolls around. That way, she won't have to go all the way to California and waste a whole week of her life, like the rest of us have to do. Then she cackled maniacally and I crawled under my desk and hugged my knees to my chest and cried for the future of mankind.