Psycho busy. Asked possible future team member to do me a favor (that said person can charge me for) because Awesome Competent Guy is on vacation.
It’s not AWC’s job but he gets shit done. Ergo, we are friends.
Prospective person writes back that I can do it my damn self.
As we learned too many times before, you can’t hope that someone will rise to meet everyone else’s road. Most just drag you down their ditch.
And when I get there, Imma beat a motherfucker’s ass.
Everyone seems to have something to say and all I can think in response is, “Did you hit your deadline in the first place? No? Well OK then.”
Speaking of missing things …
Oops.
I heard that in a movie, I think. And it explains why I am pretty sure I peaked at 40.
I am having one of those “don’t wanna” weeks. A week where I should have just taken vacation but oh yeah hahahahaha.
I’m thinking the addition of someone who has never missed a meal, a holiday, a vacation day, a Sunday or saw the wrong side of 5 pm might inspire me. To do what, though, I have no idea. But we shall see.
I always want to post about matters of the heart here since matters of the workforce, even dredged up from the distant past, could lead to matters of financial instability.
But hell. Countries can remain financially unstable and even insoluble for decades.
So, somebody feel FREE to point me to the person who supposedly wrote in to an advice columnist to complain that her employee refuses to work just 40 hours a week.
Who’s the employer, Fantasyland?
(Even the most-slackerest of bosses — yes that’s a word in my world — want you to work 80 hours. I can only imagine that she’s tired of feeling/appearing useless while her M-plaw-eee dances circles around her.)
In any event, matters of the heart are easier when one HAS a heart. But let’s give it a shot.
I saw something that disturbed me on Facepayges.
No, not the dumb bitch calling me a bully because of her own delusional butthurt.
But I saw a friend in a terrible situation’s significant other post about their terrible situation as if it was the greatest thing ever. Like, life is exactly the way THAT person wants it to be. So, bully for the rest of you.
There are times when I think I could even be friends with this person, if it were a different world. After all, if I got my way (and it might look like that person’s way), I’d be pretty happy too.
But knowing that happily ever after looks different for the two people in it, my heart dropped into my cute new shoes.
Like good for you. Glad someone’s happy there. Maybe look past the schnauz on your puss and see that you’re the only one jumping for joy that you got everything you wanted.
Of course maybe for my friend, getting what you want is simply getting someone who is happy to be with you. Even if it’s not the slightest bit on your terms. Or maybe their terms become yours.
I don’t know. Not my place, as I’ve always said. Nobody asked my opinion, and I ain’t giving it.
But that doesn’t stop my black little heart from turning a tinge blue, like “Sadness” from “Inside Out” somehow was able to lay a finger upon it.
It’s been a while since I posted a no-good-very-bad-day entry. Mostly because the four people who stressed me out most (neighbors notwithstanding) are gone from my life and I am THRILLED to be alive without their collective weight crushing my soul.
But let’s go for it today.
1. Woman I never particularly cared for left me a ripping message on my Faceypages wall to tell me she thinks I’m a bully (?). The phrase “your stupid” was part of her missive.
1.a. So … thank you for posting something offensive to MY wall about ME in regard to things I post to MY wall.
1.b. P.S. It’s YOU’RE, you twit.
2. 24/7 fire alarms going off notwithstanding, there is maintenance being done in every bathroom, on every floor. So I go to the coffee shop next door to pee.
2.a. And my toilet is broken at home and my landlord won’t write me back because I also told him I want to move out because I can’t take the upstairs neighbors anymore. Can’t pee at home either.
3. Oh yeah someone is at every exit door, scraping the paint off the doors. So it’s not like you can GO PAST THEM to go down the stairs to go to the coffee shop next door.
4. Did I mention the elevator isn’t working and that the fact that its wires smell like they’re burning is probably WHAT IS MAKING THE FIRE ALARMS GO OFF ALL DAY AND NIGHT?
5. This place smells pretty awful too. Is it smoke? Is it wet trash? Is it the wires in my head crossing and creating a brush fire?
Other than that? It’s a pretty good day, Tater. One less idiot I have to worry about posting to my Facebook wall (I got unfwiended. Waaah. Not). And climbing down the falling-apart fire escape sure beats having to push the cat out of the litterbox when I have to go.
One thing I do have to say positive about Pinhead …
I thought this was the stupidest person I ever met in my whole entire life. But maybe there is a living brain cell in there somewhere, to be a dick until the bitter end.
I can almost respect that. Of course, like victory, it was probably accidental.
I’ve been trying to exhibit grace and not write about Pinhead.
Let’s say Pinhead is a pus-filled zit that was recently popped. Gushing, flooding, oozing, steaming hot bowl of goo. And realize that is the kindest thing I can say right now.
Pinhead needs somebody to wipe their ass for them at all times. Everyone tiptoed around Pinhead. I tried to pretend Pinhead was a ghost. That was the best and only reaction to a nuisance.
Pinhead is waiting for their final reward for gracing the world with their presence. But lo, Pinhead AS USUAL cannot do what is required of Pinhead to receive Pinhead’s final reward.
(You can see I’m staying gender-neutral here, eh? BOIL ON THE BUTT OF HUMANITY is all you need to know.)
So guess what, we have to bow down and grant Pinhead’s last request. Even though Pinhead has done nothing to deserve anything from anyone.
I’m going back to pretending Pinhead was dead. And trying hard not to marvel that no one — I repeat, no one — would have shown as much grace toward me as as been shown toward Pinhead.
LANCE THAT FUCKER ONCE AND FOR ALL.
Between the assholes upstairs and the jagoff and his scrub who have now followed me twice after leaving a store in a bad neighborhood …
I’m ashamed to say …
I kind of see where Trump is coming from.
I just realized that all my best stories begin with, “So there was this guy …”
And I notice that I just don’t have enough of those stories anymore. I can’t even remember some of the best ones.
Must remedy this.
