Oh no, the mothership has called! Often, I think deep down, people just want to be 3. You know that world, where you could stick a lollipop in that annoying girl's hair and run as fast as you can? As if pulling a Forrest Gump would purge you or keep you safe - for a while.
It's like that here. Like a Star Trek committee decided the atmosphere was way too boring and thought - "well, spacesuits are SO '70s... what else could we do to spice it up? Maybe redo the office, throw in a few blinding lights here, a couple of curvy tables there, some swivel chairs and everyone can pretend they're aliens! Weee, fun fun fun!"
Er.
Look Mister Spock (the nameless, faceless face of the organisation), sorry to throw a wrench in your party. I'm an earthling, and I'd rather dig myself into a hole than play this game of charades.
At least I know my feet and head are still attached, still grounded.
I mean, seriously - WHAT is up with these lights?
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