Move it along, people
I keep checking the time, hoping that more than two minutes have passed. Today is dragging. It's probably got something to do with all the stuff I need to get taken care of before our weekend begins in earnest - a haircut, general house-type stuff that didn't get finished last night - and the fact that sometimes, my job makes me crazier than Charlie fucking Manson. And that's pretty damn crazy.
It's interesting the different types of job craziness there is out there. It seems like there's no end to the types of corporate insanity that plague so many office workers. I used to be afflicted with the "my boss is a micromanager, get the fuck away from my desk you crazy whore" madness. Now it's madness twofold: "stop dumping your shit on my desk, asshole, and do your own damn job" along with "why don't you actually MANAGE something, like your title suggests? I'm already getting walked on by other departments, do you HAVE to fluff me up and lay me in front of your office threshhold so I can be a permanent doormat for your foot-wiping shenanigans?" Of course, I could say something. Yeah, I could. There's really no reason that stands up to why I'm not saying anything, other than I like my job most days and I REALLY like getting paid, and it wouldn't do much good anyway... you know all the reasons, you've been here. You know what this is like.
SO, I'd say, going out and getting relatively intoxicated and causing a general ruckus this weekend definitely seems to be in order. There are a lot of little things adding up to big stress right now, and I'm looking forward to taking that coat of worry off for a while, and hanging it on a hook until Monday or so. Hopefully I'll be able to do that.
*looks at clock* Three minutes later... *sigh*