If I could make Lemonade out of Life's Lemons -- this blog wouldn't need to be my therapist.
Monday, April 12, 2010
I Stroked-the-Fuck-Out Today and No One Gave A SHIT!
was fit to be tied today. Wait…that’s not even strong enough to express the depths of my anger today….I was seriously ready to completely and utterly STROKE-THE-FUCK-OUT today at work.
My boss had three clients coming into the office – one at 3pm, one at 4pm, and one at 5pm. Not a big deal, right?
Well it because a nuclear fucking bomb when you try to pawn off 3pm appointment to another attorney in the office, who, he himself has a 4pm appointment coming. Oh, and did I mention the 3pm appointment was “running late” and didn’t show up in the office until 3-fucking-thirty? OH YEAH I WENT THERE.
The 3pm (actually 3:30pm now) gets pawned off on Asshole Attorney. I’ve decided I’m going to be calling him for what he really is everyone. He’s a direct descendent from a long line of assholes, I’m quite sure.
The the 4pm person comes. My boss and I are working on a HOT HOT HOT DO IT NOW NOW FUCKING NOW project, that apparently, if it doesn’t get done, the world is goig to blow up, and children are going starving or some shit. And it case you are wondering IT NEVER GOT FINISHED. Fuck those hungry starving children, sister girl an't got time for you today.
Back to 4pm appointment who was finally graced by the resence of my boss at 4:40. The 5:00pm appointment ended up finally being seen around 5:40pm and all the while, my ass is completely held hostage in their estate planning process because I’m signing their all important testamentary documents as a witness.
Want to know what time I finally got the fuck out the office tonight? Don’t worry I wont make you guess. It was SEVEN-FUCKING-THIRTY at least. Give or take a few minutes. That work schedule should blow me or something to keep here there that late.
I drove home in a blind rage ready to schew the stearing wheel off of my car because I called Husband's cell phone and there was no answer. Which meant I had to call the house number and USE PRECIOUS MINUTES FOR CALL THE FUCKING LANDLINE. Of course, Daughter picks up and says "Daddy'a right here"klsdjlk;sfjaksl;fj;salkfjasl;kfjasl;kjfla;skfjal;skfj that is the steam coming out of my ears. PICK UP YO MUTHAFUCKING PHONE WHEN IT RINGS YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE. DO NOT AVOID ME BECAUSE I AM YOUR QUEEN BITCH AND YOU WILL BOW TO ME.
You an imagine how our little family dinner when. And yes, there were many apologize made BY me, but I didn't mean them. I mean shit, people, I'm having one SUPER-CHARGED-FUCKED-UP DAY and you make no effort to kiss my ass, let alone cook your child dinner along with me, consdering your lazy fucking ass has been home for te last THREE GODDAMM HOURS.
I have a feeling this post is going to either be great or come out like shit. I recently took an Ambien about 20 minutes ago and I’m loosing touch with my keyboard and my screen looks like wavy fabric.
All I really wanted to say when I start this rant is that I fucking understand those television shows with titles like “Snapped” and shit like that. Because I really feel there is going to be a day where I just stap. And I don’t mean I’m going to kill myself or my kid or something, or even anyone in my family (husband can breathe a sign of relief). Just something.
The Ambien is getting deeper and its making me harder to write. I was trying to ititiallly write about the rage I felt today but being high on Ambien softens the mood a bit, much to my chagrin. Although I’m sort of glad that my head isn’t going to explode off my head or anything, or that I’m going to stab Husband to death or something.
Don’t worry evernyone, I’m not a mental patient I just play one when I’m medicated. I’m even afraid to read what I’ve wrote so far, but I do know at least it should be interesting.
I was trying to captrure my rage and all I managed to capture what my rambling thoughts seen through an Ambien haze.