Tuesday, April 12, 2005

time for lithium after all?

warning: strong language ahead.



I feel gagged. I feel futile. I feel like I’m screaming at the top of my fucking lungs for these people to hear me and there’s nothing, no acknowledgement, nothing.

***************

Start over. I won’t post the outpouring of bile I just pounded into the computer. The problem is my stress level is pretty high right now. I walked into work mad and it just spilled right over into the two-hour long pile of bullshit for which I had to take minutes (also known as our annual management review meeting.) They’re starting to get mixed up now. I’m feeling pretty ignored by both my husband and by the management team. I think the management staff has a good reason. I tried to keep my stress levels down, I really tried to be zen about this shit, I swear to God I did, but the sheer amount of bullshit that is passed around at this meeting just got on my last fucking nerve. I certainly wasn’t as smooth and suave as I needed to be to win them over. I just don’t have the patience right now.

Crap.

*sigh*

I hope the rain holds off for long enough for a run around the lake today. I really need it. Something mindless, something good for me, something where I can’t think past the next few steps.

Breathe.

Sending thanks to my boss who just came in for a quick commiserative chat about the waste of the last two hours. At least I'm not the only one bemoaning the lack of common fucking sense around here.

*********************************

I find it rather easy to portray a businessman. Being bland, rather cruel and incompetent comes naturally to me.
~John Cleese (1939 - )



2 comments:

EB said...

There really is nothing more completely universally, evilly useless in the world than a meeting. Most especially those known as a "management review" meeting. Gods and Goddesses help you.

Shall I bemoan my own recent plight for a moment and spare your thinking of your own?

WARNING: PROLIFIC USE OF THE F-WORD AHEAD

My bosslady is 48 hours away from leaving the country for 3 months. She has been schizophrenic, all over the fucking map, piling futile petty task upon futile petty task upon me for days and days, as if she really believes they can all be accomplished before her flight leaves on Friday afternoon.

She has called me from her cell phone the moment she leaves the office to go somewhere, and then continues to call every 4.5 minutes until she arrives at her destination, reminding me to do things that she has already listed in 37 emails in the hour previous to her having left the office.

She will call me from the fucking tarmac as her plane is taxiing down the runway, while the harried flight attendants wish they could throttle her with the cord from the oxygen doohickeys. And then strap her body to the wing as a warning to other problem travelers.

FUCK YOU BOSSLADY!

I am not feeling particularly kind-hearted today, as I slept terribly last night due to thunderstorms, freaked-out whimpering dogs, and Charles' alarm blaring out Jesus-freak music at 4:30 this morning (business travel sucks). He insists that the God-Botherer station at full volume is truly the only effective alarm he's ever used. He's right. I can't imagine anything much more abusive than that. FUCK YOU JOY FM!

Our coffee maker has some illness where despite the 14 HEAPING spoonfuls of freshly ground coffee and only 6 cups of water I get something that looks like chamomile tea when brewed. This in spite of a good cleaning with half water/half vinegar just a couple of days ago. FUCK YOU MR. COFFEE!

So the only alternative is the Dunkin' Donuts or the Krispy Kreme (FUCK YOU STARBUCKS YOU UBIQUITOUS LAME PURVEYORS OF SWILL), where I can't EVER resist also buying a fucking donut to go with my beloved coffee. Why do they insist on putting crack in them? Isn't that a little evil? FUCK YOU DUNKIN' DONUTS and FUCK YOU KRISPY KREME YOU FAT-ASS-MAKING MOTHERFUCKERS.

I let the dogs out before we left for the airport, but one of them deposited several large turds on the dining room floor during the 35 minutes it took me to get Charles to the airport and back home. FUCK YOU DOGS!

JOY!

I hope my little tirade has given you some amusement by which you can somehow mush through your day.

MANTRA:

The sun is shining and the grass is green. The sun is shining and the grass is green. The sun is shining and the grass is green. The sun is shining and the grass is green. The sun is shining and the grass is green. The sun is shining and the grass is green.

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