Workaday World V
I'm a member of Fast Company and Inc.'s "funkomiti," an informal group that occasionally plans silly little social events and parties for the magazines' staffs. Today, we hosted a Summer Camp party over at Commercial Wharf, complete with a vanilla ice cream taste test, s'mores, a crafts table, and T-shirt tie dying. We even decorated a whiteboard in Inc.'s lunch room with graffiti such as "Please don't feed the maintenance man," "No boys in the girls' lodge," and "You are assigned to cabin #3." Here are some photos from the Summer Camp smashup:


Beware the poison oak.


M&M's are the tops!


I scream, you scream, we all scream.


Campers just love the crafts table.


Tara shows off her God's eye.


Daigo readies the rubber bands.


Sodium bicarbonate: My shirt's soaking in it.


Michael's shirt has to sit here for 24 hours.


I snuck into a doorway down the alley. This is what was inside.


Wires, wires everywhere.


The room I snuck into was dominated by this elevator setup.


Is anybody down there? Hello?


Heading out to sea.


Emma Peel gets her "avenge."


We're not sure where the smoke came from.


Now I know where the string is stored.


The funkomiti's previous event.


We didn't organize it, but St. Anthony's Feast is this weekend.

In addition to coming in a little late this morning, this afternoon's fete has really thrown off my day. I feel like it's not a work day. I haven't eaten anything other than M&M's, ice cream, and a s'more. And I'm aiming toward band practice and the Operators' Punk Rock Aerobics anniversary show tonight. T-minus 42 minutes. Then I'm out of here.