Another Friday, no Friday Five
Although, of course, we are encouraged to do past fives. But the only ones I haven’t done were ones that I was boycotting for some reason or another.
We were all hooting about Princess Fatass (the queen of our organization) on his throne (if you wanna see it, e-mail me at dawn AT caterwauling dot com). Someone made a comment that it looked like what Santa Claus would sit on, and I said, “Yeah, he sat on the Easter Bunny!” This elicited much laughter and an executive decision to give him a rabbit’s foot when we are holding his outgoing ceremony (an ice cream social. *shudder*) — you know, in honor of killing the Easter Bunny with his double-wide ass. Seriously, the only reason I like this guy is because I am svelte next to him. Of course, so is a trailer with the wheels shot off, in comparison!
I have been likening my workplace to, of course, a trailer with the wheels shot off, being dragged down a highway. They say non-profits survive despite themselves — I think there is a picture of our building next to that dissertation!
Pussy Demure!TM keeps HOUNDING me to meet with her. I wanted to get an intern (she killed the same dream for me last year), but I wanted to share the intern with her because I don’t have enough full-time responsibilities to dole out. Of course, she has appeared in my office and at Smoker’s Corner no fewer than 14 times to beg me (whining, of course) to schedule a meeting with her about it. Um, no. And she’s pissed off that I asked for two comp days (even though I have worked WAY more than two extra days this month, not to mention today’s furlough!), so she wants ANOTHER meeting with me when I get back to discuss how I shouldn’t have to work under stressful deadlines. Did she miss the MEMO that I run a NEWSPAPER?!?! How the FUCK can I avoid deadlines? And it’s not even like she or anyone gets inconvenienced — I’m the asshole who works overtime, not her!
I need to start my own company. Stat. I’ve got the phone number, the P.O. Box and the inclination. All I need is a name … oh, yeah, and some clients. But it will be a sweet day when I can walk into my boss’s office, pull down my pants and have, “You suck. I quit!” emblazoned across my ass. Of course, you KNOW she’d need to meet about it!!!