Jul 21, 2009

Fucked up days

If you've had enough jobs, worked long enough at any job or just plain got stuck with some irrational bid for paid slavery, you have had at least one day when you feel like Shaq just used you as a muppet for about three hours straight. Ass burning aside, this feeling is simply the result of a latrine bottom day. You see, there are stupid days, idiotic days, annoying days and yes, shitty days, we've all had em... but then there aer these psychic fist fuck days where you can't help but urge the clock to go faster. Days when shit goes wrong, people get stupid and you clean up more spilt milk than a jizz mopper. On those days, you really have no choice but to suck it up and go with it and try not to explode.

It's not enough you have a shitty day though, every sniffle, cough or sneeze you produce is met with scared stares or chilly evil gazes seriously considering going Auschwitz on your ass. But I apologize for digressing, that is another post, for another hour of the night.

It just so happens I'm in a shit mood. I'm tired and not "oh I worked my ass off tired", but "oh man, I did a lot of desk work" tired. This type of tiredness is doubly idiotic because physically you recognize you shouldn't be as sapped and tired as you are, but when you pick up a free weight and your whole limbic system overrides that command so you pick up a beer, ahhh... therein lies the beauty of the type of day reserved for people who have enough time and the resources to bitch on a blog.

The problem doesn't lie in the nature of one's frustration and exhaustion, it's the reason for it. The reality is that I worked another eleven hour day and did my part to push forth the machine. That's the fact, the tangible factors of the equation. The intangible factors of the equation center on the asshole who half assed something so I could pretty much do the grunt AKA BITCH work. And in those last two words is the root of the problem.

One tends to become emotionally drained when they know someone could have done a lot of something extra to help whatever the hell you're doing get produced faster. But that didn't fucking happen, did it? No... Some fuck-o decided he'd hitch the easy train while I'd get slammed on the corner of go fuck yourself and you don't matter one fuck. To make things worse, the head person in charge is a major douche. Not some run of the mill douche, but a thorough bred douche. Someone who insists on committing grammatical errors so coarse, crude and disgusting that only a snuff connoisseur could fucking indulge.


Prectic Setion (Practice Section)

Copy raith (Copyright)

THIS is the type of overachieving failed abortion I'm fixing the document for, so you can imagine that it's a bit annoying to say the least when I refer to the "quality" of said document. And yet again I find myself asking how some stupid douche mill (he has surpassed the bag phase) has achieved success and ascension... is it really all ball licking and ass kissing. Are lackeys truly promoted so blindedly? I'm not saying I'm a fucking perfect 10, but based ONLY on communication skills, this guy makes me look like Einstein... and though I could feel flattered, I'm offended for too many reasons to state without sounding like a conceited prick.... I just know I end up going ... what... the f.................. the other three letters get stuck somewhere between my larynx and my wounded pride.

And even in all this would-be stupid melodrama, I still have the comfort of knowing a couple of things...

1.) Tomorrow will be another day

2.) This project won't matter in three week's time

3.) Eventually karma will catch up with this type of person and while they ask why does this happen to me, someone else will be asking how they achieve success.

Thing is I don't wish ill on this guy..... well not completely. I don't want them catching swine flu, pneumonia and the case of the crabs. I just really wish people who are in power (supposed or real) were a little more responsible for the shit that they will be accountable for.

Oh and the fourth thing that comforts me is the sweet beer I'm sipping at the moment. Ah sweet beer. Let me count the ways you make me not care of mediocre butt gnomes that have no right to the use of a computer. How I love thee sweet brew and the distilled apathy I'm able to ingest in the momentary lapse of "I don't give a shit".

May the tides rise and douches fall. Cheers to me, and cheers to anyone that might have chanced on this random what the fuck vent.

Cheers once again


Gordon M. Curry said...
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