Oh Sweet Jebus!
I'm supposed to work until at least 4:00 today. It's currently 3:23, and I'm done, dude. No more today. I can't freakin' take anymore.
I just finished off a FIFTY-SIX HOUR project (Damn you straight to Hell, New York Post), and my brain is full. I'm so done.
Do you have ANY IDEA how many people have been calling me at work? We just changed a whole bunch of our rules for filing a certain thing that we deal with, so everybody is calling, complaining, whining, questioning. It's maddening. Every time I get deeply involved in a project, and get in a groove, some dumbass calls me asking why they have to do something a certain way. Here's why: YOU'RE A MEMBER OF OUR ORGANIZATION AND HAVE TO FOLLOW THE DAMN RULES. The rules do not get bent and broken for The Podunk Gazette from Assmite, Alabama.
Argh.
Sorry, I don't mean to be so pissy all the time. It's just hard not to when everything is so frustrating.
Speaking of that, did I mention that I am part of the most screwed up family ever? My mom and aunt are at eachother's throats now, and decided to have a fight (not just yelling...pushing, screaming, swearing "FUCK")...IN A HOSPITAL. WHILE MY GRANDMA WAS THERE. ON HER BIRTHDAY!!! Last time I checked they were 56 and 48 years old, not little kids.
I got a message during my lunch break yesterday from my mom saying, "call me back, it's an emergency." So I'm sitting here, freaking out, saying to myself, "oh my God, grandma died." No, it was my mom (who couldn't figure out how to answer her cell phone until the FIFTH call) telling me she thought she was going to be arrested for assault. It was fun trying to explain, while holding back tears of frustration and embarrassment, that I needed to leave work at 2:30 to go and make sure my mom wasn't hauled off to the slammer for digging her nails into my aunt's arm. Pardon my ever-expanding French, but fucking shit.
I called my cousin and asked her why our mothers are such nutjobs, and what we did to deserve being born into this. And now that I think of it, what horrible, awful, pitiful thing did I do in a past life to be born into that, and then have 100% no contact with the other side of my family? Am I some sort of non-skin-losing leper? Did I kidnap and kill the Lindbergh baby in another life? Was I Stalin? Worse yet...was I a mime?!?!
I'm becoming what I hate: a whiny jackass who bitches and moans on an online journal. I won't write again until it's happy-fun. Hopefully that'll be soon.
OK, I'm going home now. I'm going to relax, watch me some lovely, funny "A Bit of Fry & Laurie" and then go with Betty to find Buffalo Wild Wings in Mount Prospect. Some tangy wings (wangs) and trivia should lighten my spirits. If not, Amazing Race will help.
I love you, you know.
I just finished off a FIFTY-SIX HOUR project (Damn you straight to Hell, New York Post), and my brain is full. I'm so done.
Do you have ANY IDEA how many people have been calling me at work? We just changed a whole bunch of our rules for filing a certain thing that we deal with, so everybody is calling, complaining, whining, questioning. It's maddening. Every time I get deeply involved in a project, and get in a groove, some dumbass calls me asking why they have to do something a certain way. Here's why: YOU'RE A MEMBER OF OUR ORGANIZATION AND HAVE TO FOLLOW THE DAMN RULES. The rules do not get bent and broken for The Podunk Gazette from Assmite, Alabama.
Argh.
Sorry, I don't mean to be so pissy all the time. It's just hard not to when everything is so frustrating.
Speaking of that, did I mention that I am part of the most screwed up family ever? My mom and aunt are at eachother's throats now, and decided to have a fight (not just yelling...pushing, screaming, swearing "FUCK")...IN A HOSPITAL. WHILE MY GRANDMA WAS THERE. ON HER BIRTHDAY!!! Last time I checked they were 56 and 48 years old, not little kids.
I got a message during my lunch break yesterday from my mom saying, "call me back, it's an emergency." So I'm sitting here, freaking out, saying to myself, "oh my God, grandma died." No, it was my mom (who couldn't figure out how to answer her cell phone until the FIFTH call) telling me she thought she was going to be arrested for assault. It was fun trying to explain, while holding back tears of frustration and embarrassment, that I needed to leave work at 2:30 to go and make sure my mom wasn't hauled off to the slammer for digging her nails into my aunt's arm. Pardon my ever-expanding French, but fucking shit.
I called my cousin and asked her why our mothers are such nutjobs, and what we did to deserve being born into this. And now that I think of it, what horrible, awful, pitiful thing did I do in a past life to be born into that, and then have 100% no contact with the other side of my family? Am I some sort of non-skin-losing leper? Did I kidnap and kill the Lindbergh baby in another life? Was I Stalin? Worse yet...was I a mime?!?!
I'm becoming what I hate: a whiny jackass who bitches and moans on an online journal. I won't write again until it's happy-fun. Hopefully that'll be soon.
OK, I'm going home now. I'm going to relax, watch me some lovely, funny "A Bit of Fry & Laurie" and then go with Betty to find Buffalo Wild Wings in Mount Prospect. Some tangy wings (wangs) and trivia should lighten my spirits. If not, Amazing Race will help.
I love you, you know.