[I had a whole four pages of rant - but having to race to the potty to deal with the repurcussions of having a Rockstar to keep awake, I thought of a much more clever few tiny rants for your cynical delight. Perhaps I'll post a WTF Friday Part Duex, or just wait for another bout of blood boiling nonsense to bitch about. In any case...]
The moon is W A Y past full, ever inching its way back to a sliver... so whats with the two weeks of PMS? Its like my roomie and I refuse to fill the garbage with tampons in one week and she took the first shift so I have to wait it out. The dogs will be pleased at all the treats, but seriously I'm about to shove the big one down the stairs.
My skin is so parched I can not only count the open wounds caused by rushing a paper into the copy machine (3) but punctures from a harried toss of a spiral bound notebook (2) and chunks of flesh taken at various times of the week by taking my rings off to wash my hands (3).
I am refusing to partake in the Faux-Pa Sharing Friday gossip fest and leave my headphones in and cranked nearly all the way up for such long durations I actually wore them to the pot and couldn't hear the tinkle and peed on my hand. How long since you did THAT?
So I had to wash my hands throughly and now the parched hand syndrome has elevated to max alert as I can now count (8) places where the skin has cracked open.
I'd slather myself in Neosporin but it didn't work yesterday so I'll just wait for the Vasaline and gloves at home and save my keyboard the trouble.
I was told that I do such an excellent job that I have earned the treat of cleaning out a cubicle. To boost my pride, I was told that indeed this other chick did f*ck up but that we will spend an hour fixing it... oh, and btw I can't tell anyone but she is really forgetful and slow and snippy on Fridays because she has MS and its getting bad and her shots are on Thursday nights so just keep being smiley and accomodating and for Gracious Sake PLEASE let US know (and not her) when you find she jacked something up.
The cubicle I cleaned out was for a position doing what Miss Forget My Fat Stack of Misexecuted Outbox... I actually bear the battle scars of being in the position that I somehow wasn't told was open but I do have the capability to cover up the tracks of the troll who, apparently due to a medical condition, can't do her job properly.
My joy at feeling healthier comes at the price of suddenly feeling that each peice of my wardrobe has been systematically rehemed - crooked. These were my favorite jeans and now feel all cockeyed in all the most unflattering ways possible. And this top is suddenly accentuating the round of my belly area more than the round of my perfectly padded top area... very suspicious.
Also, my actual disgust (like snarled nose and gagging in the kitchenette at work as the cookie tin is passed around) at the idea of putting sugary or greasy or starchy things across my discerning palate has apparently left me with nothing to salve my personality with but spit and vinegar; strange since I don't like vinegar.
Wait, now I have (9) places where my skin refuses to do the one job of keeping my flesh INSIDE.
What The F*ck folks.
Whatdayathink? Sure, I'll admit its been long enough and its time to add some "+" or at least "=)" to my date book... but dayathink running up a bar tab and getting hit on at a dive bar will do instead? I haven't try it in a long long long long time... and its better than thinking of calling Him to add a "+".
Wait, I just puked a little. Yep, that little disgust I had for the cookie tin was only the begining of my bodys way of telling me what to stay away from. My stomach is actually turning at the idea of calling Him.
What a shame really. I was all ready to roll over and be his bitch again and he f*ckin blew it. Not really a shame for me now that I think about it. Though it will take a while for my self worth to rebuild.
Off to the gym... maybe if I work hard enough I can just toss the wardrobe instead of waiting up to discover who is jacking up all my clothes...
Then maybe I'll go to the XXX store instead of the bar and get me something I can use to shake me back into a good mood...
Or find out what my Kahlua Christmas present tastes like before its all gone...
But before all that, I have to abuse the company priviledge of providing me a great computer and incredibly fast connection of the corporate kind and ask ya'll if this picture seems fitting for me to add as my profile identifyer portrait (I have started noticing frequent commenters because of the picture that pops up next to thier name and I'm a visual person):
It won't get bigger for you viewing pleasure... but it will be smaller when it shows up anyway... leme know =)
Seriously, Its Finally Friday and I really wanted my desk cleared before I left but got SO ragingly fumed at the indignation I was subjected to over the last three days that I've spent a good hour chatting to you fine folk instead of working. Good lot of good that did, huh? But do you think my boss will ever find out/know/notice??? Lets put it this way; she was gone two hours ago. Ha. I'm out.