Suck.

3 Feb

That’s the only word I can think of to describe today.

It started off all right. I went over to my friend Carrie’s house this morning with a delicious, grande skinny caramel latte from Starbuck’s (my new favorite drink) and we had a good, encouraging chat about marriage and men.

But the good ended there.

I walked out of her house around 8:10 to go to work but was confronted with a car door that wouldn’t open. At first, I thought maybe I had gotten the seatbelt jammed or there was something stuck in the door that wasn’t letting it open all the way.

Oh, no. It was the actual door. Bent. Mangled. Deformed. Smashed.

Someone had backed into it and driven off.

I’m actually kinda proud of what I did next. Instead of just driving off and talking to Travis about it later, I called him because I thought maybe moving the car wasn’t such a great idea without first contacting our insurance company. After talking to Travis, I went back inside Carrie’s house and called the cops. I called work to let them know I would be in late. I called our insurance lady.

And then I waited 30 minutes for the cops to show up.

It took him 5 minutes to write up the report once he did show up. Then I was off to work, that is once I climbed into the driver’s seat from the passenger side.

Ah, work. What can I say about you? You are beyond standard words. Only choice words can describe you. Because honestly, you make me want to cry, gorge, scream, mope, rage, sigh, and slack all at the same time. Today I hated you. I’m not really expecting tomorrow to be any different. I’ll sit at my desk, alternating between boredom, rage, and joy.

But mostly just boredom and rage.

After a meeting with my boss and our marketing consultant, I wanted a donut with chocolate icing so badly. I think I might have one for breakfast tomorrow. Doesn’t that sound heavenly? I never eat donuts. I’m not supposed to now either, since we only eat sweets on Sundays.

But guess what? I don’t give a rat’s ass.

Whoops, did I just write that? 

I had a package of brownie bites instead of the donut because the gas station across the street from our office doesn’t have donuts. The brownie bites were a total letdown though–they definitely sounded better than they tasted.

But I either had to eat some chocolate or I had to leave. Drive off into the sunset, never to return (at least not to work). Oh how I wish I could be like Peter in Office Space and just say, “You know? I don’t feel like going to work today…so I don’t think I’m going to.”

I think I’ve figured out why I’m so frustrated and POed: I’m not in charge of anything. I don’t have a sandbox. I don’t have a concrete job description. Everyone around me has work and tasks coming out of their ears, eyes and nose. They pull all of my work out of their butts.

I’m sick of butt work.

One Response to “Suck.”

  1. leah February 4, 2009 at 11:59 am #

    I’m sorry, there’s so much to respond to, but seriously, lol at whoops and buttwork.

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