Squeeze real real hard….Seriously, SERIOUSLY!
You know how I feel right now? I feel like I want to put my hands around somebody’s neck and squeeze real real hard. And then, while still keeping a firm grip around the neck knock the head repeatedly against a cold hard floor…. I’m not talking about anybody specific (although I hate alot of people and many of them deserve to die). I just feel really really pissed. Okay, I’ll take it slow…. *harp music* *flashback*
Okay, as you guys may have realized, I haven’t posted in a while. The end of last week I was busy with work crap. The only important work-related highlight of last week is that I got my boss to send a letter to HR saying that I was not to be a trainee but to become an “officer”. How? With a little thing called persistence, my friends. And with a little bit of disease. You don’t say “no” to a person who was just diagnosed with a disease. (I really actually was diagnosed with anemia). So anyway, I told my boss that I was horribly ill. And I told him that everybody was consistently lying to me about my designation and confirmation and that this was not what I’d signed up for and *whine, whine, whine*. Anyway, he eventually gave in. And after he did, I told him I was taking a couple of days off to recover (not bad eh?).
And thats why I haven’t been posting.
And the drama continues….
I show up to this hellhole called work today to find out that the job title he gave me does not even exist around here. Which, upon further thought, I think might be a good thing. Here’s why:
HR (which I like to think stands for Horribly Retarded) does not have a job descrpition for this new title. Now you’d think that they’d create one, seeing as its their job, but that might actually require some form of intelligence. So ofcourse, they ask my boss to send them a full job description. As if my boss will even entertain the idea of doing some kind of work. Soooooo ultimately I (indirectly) have the opportunity to write my own job description. Muhahahahaaaa!!!!! If things roll the right way, my boss won’t even read the thing before he sends it off (huge possibility) and so I’m thinking I’ll be “Officer”- Responsibilities include whipping teaboys, choreographing official corporate dance, DJing of hiphop elevator music, and drawing nipples on the shirts of all retards with a permanent marker. What do you think?
So anyway, back to reality… another thing I find once I walk into my office is some random Indian dude sitting at my table. What the fuck? And so I ask him: “Uhhhh… hi…. I’m sorry but this is my office, may I please ask what the fuck you’re doing here?”
Turns out that he’s some new guy that was hired and of course they throw him in my office. He asks really politely if he can stay for the day. And I say its fine. An hour later his division head comes over to inform me that he’ll be sitting in my office for a few days. Seriously, what the fuck? But you know what? Its fine, because its exactly this type of retarded “we have no respect for you or your space” shit that motivates me and excuses my demotivation and fuckery for this job. Really. I’m 100% sure that I could do the job of any motherfucking person here and actually do it well. But why should I? Why should I take a maskhara place like this seriously? They don’t deserve shit. And people bring up the arguement “but they pay you”. Sure they do. They pay me to come here and work. But for each peice of bullshit they pull I deduct a certain amount of work from my load. Just like they deduct my salary if I’m late. I’m being just as professional as they are. You get what you give baby.
Anyway, despite my “fuck y’all” attitude this place still stresses me out. I’m just not a person who can suffer so much bullshit. I seriously need to get out of this fucking country, because this place is seriously just a reflection of this nation. I need to leave. Seriously, I need to leave here with the knowledge that I don’t ever have to come back…. The problem is my parents don’t let me leave even though I tell them that living here is literally killing me, physically and mentally. I’m miserable here. Unfortunately, they know this and they don’t really care. I mean I know they care that I’m miserable but they completely wont entertain the idea of me leaving. I guess they prefer a miserable daughter over one that isn’t with them. Which I get (in theory, but not in reality).
I’m guessing this is why I’m very susceptable to fits of rage and violence (I really am…. I’m trying to become more zen… but I still wouldn’t suggest anybody really fuck with me). And you know what’s really scary, I enjoy hurting people. Its brings me great pleasure. I guess that its the only way I feel like I can release my frustration (that’s not true- comedy works too)…. I’ve tried exercise. But its just not the same… I guess I’m shaping up to be one great serial killer, dont you think? I’ll kill people but then somehow make a joke of it…. maybe I could have my one comedy / horror show on HBO someday *dream*….
Anyway, enough about me and my psychotic tendencies…. I need get going so its link time!
Silhouette Materperice Theater
Dance :this is sooo Chirp - Lol
