I so fucking love tuesdays, not.

I generally dread Fridays, as they are the most difficult day of the week in my line of work.

I hate it when I look like a colossal dumbass in front of the boss.

You know you're having a bad hair day when you look in the mirror and the first thing you think is "my brains are in terrible danger."

In addition to the traditional observances, I found out today that my Frankenstein poem got nominated for a Rhysling Award, officially making this the best shangyday of my life.

Oh, and in other good news, we think a mouse has died under a cabinet in the kitchen, because it's starting to smell really gross in there.

  Today has already been about eight layers of stupid, I'm horribly tired, my
eyes won't stop watering, and I just want to go home and crash.

I'm miserable this evening.

I proceeded to call my dentist who came into the office 45 minutes later and about an hour and a half after the disaster began, my mouth was fixed.

So I'm basically waiting in the house all day until one of the managers calls me into work.