No, Francois! Let this one go!

[thejunipertree]

The strangeness of the day is seeping into
my pores. I'm typing this from work because
the evil monster has left for the day and
I can't be arsed to actually do some work
when she's not breathing down my neck and
spying on me.

Oh. The horror.

Had a bizarre dream about the Orphan
last night, which being as how I've
not spoken to him in some time, is bizarre
in itself.

The Wee One calls me at my office, we speak.
We giggle like two 12 year old girls as we
pick on the Unibomber V 2.0. He gets angry
and threatens to cut the phone cord. I think
it's because he just doesn't dig on technology.
Not because of any underhanded statement I may
or may not have made regarding the density
of his loafers.

There is a cackling hen in this office building.
She grates on my nerves about once an hour.
I've never met anyone else in my entire God
forsaken LIFE who had such an annoying laugh. I'd
pay to see her lips sewn shut. I'd pay damn
good money, as a matter of fact.
Everytime she lets loose with a chortle, I
cringe and dig my fingernails into the surface
of my desk. There's many gouges in there, not
all of them from me.

Sometimes I wonder if the drone who had this
desk before me was also plagued by that
woman's hideous laughter and clawed the marks
in the Formica in a desperate attempt to cling
to the remenents of sanity.

I hate this job.

I refuse to assimilate. My! How very PUNK RAWK
of me (oi! oi!).

But, I hate it. I hate the falseness of every one
who works within these walls. I hate how they
will all cheer "Good morning!" as I walk past.
Do I look like I'm having a good morning to you?
No. I'm awake. And I'm sober. Therefore it is
definitely NOT a good fucking morning. Out of
my way.
I hate how I'm considered "funny" because of
the things I like and do, the way I dress. I
had purple sparkly beaded scrunchies in my
transmitters the other day. It looked damn cute.
I get "You're so funny!"

You think I'm doing this for a laugh?

Tomorrow is casual day. I think I shall comment
to everyone here who wears sneakers how I
find them humourous because they're wearing
sneakers. See if they get the joke.

Somehow, I doubt this.

I feel like stapling my hand to my forehead in
post teen angst. "No one understands me! Woe!"

AND YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE I FUCKING HATE?!?

The complete and utter disregard for the
English language. How people, these fuckwitted
worker bee drones, take the English language
and rape it into submission.

Case in point: "I know this isn't a regulatory
compliance question."

Regulatory?
You couldn't just use the word "regular" or
"ordinary"? No, you feel the need to use
words that you don't TRULY know the meaning of,
in an effort to sound more intelligent?

I'm on to you, fuckhead.

And the way people pronounce things, this Goddamn
South Jersey dialect. How lovely and dulcet it is
to my ears.

Any day of the week now ends with "DEE" instead
of "DAY". Everytime I hear this, I want to start
swinging a hammer.
"WUDDER" instead of "WAH-TER".
"BEE-YOU-TEE-FULL" exactly in that way. I'm not
even beginning to exagerrate.

Christ.
I know there's more. But, my brain is boggling and
I'm beginning to feel anal retentive from all of
this complaining.

Criminey.

/hammer strike.