01.26.07
‘There is more refreshment and stimulation in a nap, even of the briefest, than in all the alcohol ever distilled.’
Thank you Mr. Edward Lucas.
Sleep deprivation and bitter cold does not a happy Fletcher make.
The Smooth One blew into town to pick up an old friend from Maceio, a teacher name Mathieus. He was promised a sordid night in dingy pubs, and lots of cheap ale. Add to that mix - The Muse, who wanted to see the last episode of ‘Lost’ and the new painting, and Puma, who was enjoying a last moment of freedom before the mail order bride returned…
I hate sleep deprivation, it feels like I’ve been kicked repeatedly in the head - and puts me in a mood where everyone is instantly my enemy. It almost feels like people go out of their way to piss me off and the world is full of sallow, greasy, potato shaped space vampires.
(side note: a space vampire is one of those clueless jackasses that seem to take up all excess room. Human shaped vortexes. They’re the idiots who stop dead at the narrowest choke point on the sidewalk, hallway, etc. and decide that that is where they’ll have a conversation, answer the phone, pick their nose, pick their ass, or just fucking turn off their brains and stop - thus causing everyone to squeeze around them. They also stop dead at the bottom of escalators, looking around like idiots, while people are piling up behind them, or my absolute favorite, someone who hurries up to walk in front of you, and then stops dead. I want to club people like this and tazer them in the nuts.)
Somehow, I manage to get to the occupational shit stain on time. And no one else seems to be capable of this… ‘Yeah, I’m gonna be late, my shoelace broke, and even though there’s a fully stocked shoe store right next door, its gonna take 3 hours to find a suitable replacement.’ Great.
And of course its busy.
In addition to the sheer uselessness of the place, I seem to be the only one who can: pick up the phone, reply to e-mails, correctly answer stupid questions and pick up the slack. I do not understand how I can be feeling like such burgeoning amounts of ass, and still outperform everyone else. Next time, I’m gonna just puke on my boss and go the fuck home.
And of course, I get ever dumb jackass customer thrown my way. I literally had to explain in polite, pc terms, why this clients stupid picture of the official NASCAR wine didn’t get any attention in the media.
I want you to think about that. Official NASCAR WINE.
Yeah, I fucking thought so. How do you explain to a bozo who had that brilliant of an idea why his shit didn’t get any attention?? Is it just me, or is that the most completely WRONG demographic?? Don’t those racing car types brink BEER?? Don’t people who drink wine, NOT WATCH FUCKING AUTO RACING??? And how am I supposed to tell this nimrod just how stupid his idea is??
Luckily, I was saved by the clock - I noticed I had 5 minutes before quitting time - put mister dumb ass on hold - flagged a co-worker and told her to deal with it, as I had had enough for one day and was going home for the day, and punch myself in the head until I achieved unconsciousness…
