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 | TrackBackI'm sending hugs and Shiner Bock your way. Need a quick vacation? Come see us!
Posted by: holder at December 15, 2006 05:26 AMif he's asking you to meet him in a hotel room at some place halfway away from home and he's married, he's not one of the good ones. Sorry.
Posted by: RSM at December 15, 2006 06:40 AMGeez...sounds like a bunch of winners to me.
Yikes.
Have fun with that.
Do you really need a Blown-Eye intervention! Blodge Meet! Blodge Meet!
Posted by: Denny at December 15, 2006 12:03 PMThat does it. I clearly see a burning need to call on my customer in Dallas comin' very quickly. VERY quickly.
I'll let you know.......
You hang on. Don't let the bastards get you down....
Posted by: Tammi at December 15, 2006 03:11 PMHuh. One more day closer to death. Hur-frickin'-rah.
Posted by: zonker at December 17, 2006 07:28 PM"the fucktard quotient goes through the roof." OMG, I'm rolling on the floor. That is SO my workplace too this time of year. Think if I said it out loud in a Catholic hospital they'd understand my pain, pat me on the head and hook me up with some good old stress-induced disability? Nah -- but good lord would it be fun to try! Said FQ definitely rises in any hospital setting as people are beating down the doors to get any elective surgeries done before their deductibles start over again. Send yer lithium lad out here to CA -- I can get the object of his obsession a sweet deal on the new guns for cash with an excellent surgeon who not only speaks english but doesn't wear anything funny wrapped around his head. No, on second thought, keep him in TX -- we have enough nuts out here already. Thanks for makin' my day!!! Oh, and Bitchy Cynicism is an absolute requirement for survival as a single mom. Practice it assiduously. It will stand you in good stead for lo these many years.
Posted by: Marianne at December 17, 2006 10:13 PM