Sharp as a tack like I just left church...

So, I meant to be a tad more prolific now that I gots me an actual blog, but things of late have been exhausting, to say the least. However, the First Rule of Blog Club is You Don't Talk About...wait, no, that's not right...ah! The First Rule of Blog Ettiquette: Do Not Apologize For Lack Of Posts. My silence only helps build your anticipation, because I just KNOW you guys are hanging on my every word...

Hello...?

Anyway: Free Coffee Day came and went, and I now feel fully justified in holding a giant swig of coffee in my mouth and spewing it forth at the next customer who pisses me off at work. Holy fuck, could you guys be any more like children?

"Are the cookies free?"
"No, just the drinks."
"How about the sandwiches?"
"No, just the drinks."
"How about the bagels?"
"No, just the drinks."
"How many can I order at one time?"

Repeat ad nauseum.

"Why is my coffee free?"
"Because the previous owner wants to thank all the customers who've supported her business over the last fifteen years."
"And she's just giving me a coffee? That's it?"
"Well, she's giving EVERYONE free coffee, or tea, whatever drink it is that they order..."
"But this is all I get?"

I should be allowed to punch people.

Then came Sunday:

"Hey, Chris, you wanna work for me tonight?"
"Why how come?"
"I think I'm quitting."
"Oh. Alright."

See, I could've said no, but then there'd be a good chance that Kim would've been stuck by herself, and she's already going through some serious traumatic stuff as it is, i.e., FRIENDS DYING IN THEIR SLEEP, so I thought she could use an evening of sucking helium out of balloons while serving customers coffee. Long story.

Rest assured, my guts hurt at the end of the night. Kimmy's good shit, yo.

Today: I tell ya, it's hard to be in a bad mood when you're listening to Outkast's "Morris Brown", that friggin marching band makes you wanna start your own drumline; it almost makes being in the Fattening Pen bearable. Almost.

Speaking of which: I was of the opinion that the best thing to do was just suck it up and stick it out, but I don't think I can take another month of this garbage. The job is meaningless, and I can no longer muster any enthusiasm towards double-checking the math of some rigpig who pulls numbers out of the air arbitrarily. Everyone compares this place to the movie 'Office Space', but I'll go you one better: watch 'Brazil'. It's useless bureacracy paired with entrenched paranoia, and it's insidious in the way it destroys people. I spend my day watching people ten years younger than me get used to the idea of growing old before their time, and listening to the constant pseudo-political bickering from the established cubicle heirarchy of ladies who've forgotten how to actually communicate and don't care that they're causing my brain to blister. It's heartbreaking, and I don't want to do it anymore.

So, um, this is me looking for a new job. For reals, this time; and to be fair, it's also the last time I'll bitch incessantly about the horrors of Officeland (unless, of course, something truly diaboloical happens...).

Speaking of 'Drumline': y'know, that movie would've been watchable if they'd just gotten rid of the story and had an hour and a half of the marching bands by themselves. That'd be slick.

Hey, look! My laundry's done! Bedtime!

I am SO old...