Soapbox Diner
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Primal Screaming - The Home Edition |
02.04.07 |
Discontentedness is a real bitch. It's everything, it colors every damn mood and perception and reaction and it sooo sucks. Like the raise I got February 1. Very decent raise when you look at it in percentages. The biggest incremental raise I have ever gotten, and yet it SUCKS. I just had my one year anniversary in the new job. Boss comes up and says, 'I've been meaning to do your review but haven't gotten a chance yet.'
'Yeah, I've got some stuff I would like to discuss, too.'
*Witness and observe Boss deflate in an totally nonverbal display of, 'Oh, fucking-A. Don't I have enough to do without yet another meeting?'
So later that day, she shoots me an email announcing the raise - 5% And at first I see the word 'raise' and get all happy, but then I do the math and get mad, cuz I was gonna ask her for $600 more a year. Now let's do the math, darlings: $600 divided by 12 is exactly $50 a month, or $25 a pay period.
What the fuck am I bitching about?
Whatever.
And the Man. Jesus-fucking-christ-on-a-pogo-stick-bouncing-like-a-retard-child. Can we all just agree that toilets get flushed AFTER completion of the urination process, and NOT midstream? Or how about this, if one of us - namely him - drops a big one in the bowl (you know what I mean), can we PLEASE make sure that it doesn't clog the toilet? Or if it does, would it cause painful bouts of death to plunge it so someone else doesn't get their feet all wet when they walk into the room?
And this can of Febreeze currently stinking up the bathroom and half of the rest of the house in the process - I don't care, that nasty-smelling retard spray is disappearing TODAY.
When I bought this house, I was sooo filled with visions and aspirations and desires for it. I was gonna landscape the 1/4 acre backyard, and till up the veggie garden to plant heirloom tomatoes and cucumbers and bell peppers and all sorts of yummy goodness from which I could fill the house with yummy healthfulness. I was gonna scrape this hideous popcorn ceiling down and repaint the whole house. I was gonna refinish the fireplace mantle and run cables and wires throughout the attic so we would have surround sound in the living room and speakers throughout the house and yard.
Do you know how much of this has been accomplished in the five months we've lived here? NONE OF IT. Every attempt I make is shot down by the Man. 'It's not time.' 'We don't have the proper equipment/money,' 'We don't have to do everything in the first year, SBD.'
Allow me to reiterate: Jesus-fucking-christ-on-a-pogo-stick-bouncing-like-a-retard-child.
I'm stiffled, bored, aggrevated, pissed, impatient, and basically just wanting to hurry up and make this all happen so I can enjoy the work and the products thereof. But in order to get there, I have to put up with The Man and all his furious bitchy excuses and impatience.
He doesn't understand - I am capable, smart, willing, strong, handy, withering, impatient, angry, hopeful, excited, dying to see my visions come into fruition.
Instead he asks, 'Honey, with the income tax returns, why don't we get new blinds?' BECAUSE.
- The income tax to which you are referring is MINE.
- I have other plans for it.
- All the fucking shit that's half started around here should be completed first.
But most importantly,
- Because I LIKE the curtains, and I don't like blinds.
That OK with you? Great.
ARGH!
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