We had a thread on this, I believe. It had the "butterfly clips, rubber bands and pen weapons" in it. It's around here somewhere. Chain mail had a whole different meaning back then.
Stingray was so excited when he got hired, he built himself his very own office weapon. I wish I could have been there on his first day of work when they told him "we don't have any trebuchet doors here. What the heck IS a trebuchet anyways?" He's been in a downward spiral since then.
Soon enough, he'll have slipped so bad he'll be looking lecherously at the old ladies and their hot-flash-induced glow on their cheeks, and he'll suddenly start noticing how intoxicating and erotic the aroma of freshly applied BenGay has become to him.
For the love of Pete man, don't EVER let the intra-nets die at work! Your happiness at work depends on it!