I don't want to go to bed, mainly, because I don't want to get up. I dread tomorrow today.
Yes, the children...the pure, sweet, excited, little children. Don't you know they are always on my mind to some extent?
Still, work is a nightmare. Did you see my market today? 12-4, good buddy. I know ya'll think it's just sunshine and rainbows at my place, but oh contrer, mon frere.
More business means more people which means more personalities and a vast variance of neuroses and societal disorders that yours truly comes in contact with each and everyday. In short, the fucktard quotient goes through the roof.
I've been talking with a bipolar about a boob job. For months. Basically, he wasn't thinking clearly. Doesn't believe he really meant to purchase the boobs at all. Normally, he wouldn't involve me, but we're talking about a sizeable booby prize if he can extort some cash out of the lady brandishing those new guns. He's obsessed. And I want my fucking memory erased. Now.
Remember my sweet love story about the couple moving into the nursing home? Well, he broke out. He couldn't take it. And here's the best part: you ready? He ditched the wife. Uh, huh. That ole gal he loved with all his heart? See ya.
Oh, and did I mention the business guy who asked that I meet him at a hotel room halfway to Houston to review his investment options? Yes, he's wealthy, he's handsome, and of course, married. All the good one's are! (read: bitchy cynicism)
And those are just a few of the disheartening and soul smashing stories playing out daily at a financial institution near you. Now I must sleep, my darlings, so I can sear a smile on tomorrow and face the joy of the season once again. I can't wait!
Merry Christmas Chaos to all, and to all, a good fight!Posted by shoe at December 14, 2006 10:58 PM | TrackBack