Cherry Mistmas! *hic* (Beware, rant ahead!)


No, I’m not at work drunk.  Although, from the looks of things, I don’t think anyone would notice.  Certainly not my boss who I wont be seeing until the 30th, at the earliest, and even that is looking like its gonna be snowed out.  No one is here.  No one.  Well, except that one dude who uses my workstation after I’m gone for the day.  Creepy.

Come to think of it… a lot the people around here are creepers.  I already mentioned the dude who uses my computer.  Then there’s this other dude who sits on the other side of my wall, behind me, who likes to talk loudly, like he has cotton in his mouth.  Stealing computer dude likes to talk to him.  There’s also a guy who can, I think, only see out of one of his absurdly thickly glassed eyes.  And he’s obsessed with the Kindle.  There’s my boss, who I think just became a boss, because he’s not very bossy.  There’s the dude who I knew from a while ago who doesn’t have any hair, and yet still gathers together enough strands to put it into a long braid.  Oh, and he’s got a Z.Z. Top beard.  There was this one old dude over where I used to work who was as decrepit and annoying as old dudes can be… only this one was a ballerina.  I kicked him out of the library when I used to work there, so he never talked to me.  (Thank god.)

There are women who look like men, women who are 143 years past their prime, women who’s boobs hit the floor, women who pull their pants up to where their boobs should be, women who wear high waters, and women who sport all of the above and still think they’re cool because they have a 12 year old.  The fact that someone touched you long enough to procreate icks me out more than your camel toe.

Uhh… I never really meant this to be a rant on the quality of people I work with.  Really.  It just kinda went in that direction.

But can you blame me?  On any given day, I will hear 5 farts, 3 burps, hacking death coughs, sniffling, and a partridge in a pear tree.  I have to listen to my iPod pretty much from the second I sit down until the second I gather my crap to leave.  I will pause it to go pee or listen to someone who has wandered into my cube.

I am terrified that I will end up like these people.  I guess if I’m scared of it, then that’s a good sign for the future.  But it really is that bad.  This is where the government puts every single dork, dweeb, geek, tard, moron, socially inept loser that they hire.  And that doesn’t make me feel very good about my own social awesomeness.  Granted, I didn’t really apply to work anywhere else, but I feel like someone picked me up out of the cool kid’s seat, oh who am I kidding, I was never really cool… but I was funny and nice and had some social cred.  Anyway.  I was picked up out of where I had some kind of respect and plopped me down into the special ed classes.  And not the “oh that’s sad” special ed, where through no fault of their own, some kids ends up, but the “I like to burn things” and “Don’t look at me!” special ed class.

5 years.  Really.  I told myself I would give this 5 years before I gave up.  That’s long enough for someone, anyone, to get me out of this purgatory.  Or to get discovered and be a fantastically famous photographer.  Either will do.


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