Caterwauling

Yesterday I accomplished more at work between 4 p.m. and 9 p.m. than I did between 9:30 a.m. and 4 p.m. Figures.

I had to run out and get cat food before going home, when it occurred to me that dinner wasn’t something I’d considered. So I’m in this shopping plaza and conveniently parked by about nine restaurants. I go into one. Get in line behind someone who’s served. Easy, right?

The kid behind the counter looks exasperated and horrified that he might have to serve another customer. He asks if I’ve placed an order. I said no. He looks to have a panic attack, looking around at the other employees like it would piss them off to do one more sammich. I said look, I’m trying to find dinner at 9:47 p.m. and you close at 10; I wasn’t aware that you had a choice to not serve me. Because it’s not like I really wanted to have dinner that late yet here I was with money to spend at that establishment. He looked nervous. I wasn’t going to deal, though. I have my limits, so I topped off my visit with a merry “Have a nice fucking night!”

I hate people.

I tried three more places before I could find someone who would talk to me. And that restaurant was out of what I normally order. 😉 But yeah, what’s up with all these tip jars? That would require providing basic service on the bare minimum. I have yet to see someone go above and beyond anymore, let alone get the regular order right.

Anyway, while I’m on a tangent (and running late for work). …

What I would like to know is how Red Swingline Stapler chick can get away with wearing a denim skirt on a Wednesday. Was I not invited to the hoedown? She gets an undeserved window and dressing comfort? Gah. Way to make an impression on your new colleagues. *kick*

I didn’t sleep last night (see: bitch, crabby), twisting over way too many things in my mind. I’d left a comment on someone’s blog yesterday (because it’s all about me baybee), that I have a hole where happiness should be. And the suck in life, whether big or small, tends to grow in size to fill the void.

I’d advised my friend to put on her shitkickers and push the suck back into its corner for as long as possible. Some days, I need to take my own advice.

I need a vacation. And Xanax. And a screaming orgasm. Whichever comes first. 😉

This entry was posted on Thursday, September 28th, 2006 at 7:15 AM and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.