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What the hell? Can the people at work just leave me alone already? It's one of those days where conspiracies on annoying the hell out of me while crashing on projects is de rigeur. (Note the usage of French, even in times of stress, when I took too many years of Spanish that I've forgotten. Uh-huh. I'm feeling it. Channeling the Michel.)
One project bound and ready to go out the door. Project number two is bearing down hard.
Will be working through lunch. So far no office volunteers to actually get me food. Nicely, head honcho has given me money for the food. Isn't that sweet? He's going to be gone the rest of the day or he'd bring me something, but so sweet!
Have already been asked by head honcho if I'm riding 'em hard, keeping everyone on track. That prompted slightly hysterical laughter from me, followed by (and my exact words were), "I think I'd have better luck keeping Dale Earnhardt Jr. and his crew on track." Which is scarily quite accurate.
Spent Friday night with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bubblesbrnaid. Sorta Sekrit Message: It'll all be good. I'm going to do the overly optimistic thing over here and be a ray of sunshine for you. That way you have a good person to throw foam balls at, or other soft, non-damaging objects. Oh, and Hermie on a stick.
Saturday night was the Father's Day thing. We went to Caraway Speedway for the Faster Pastor event. Yeah. A bunch of preachers, one with experience, racing each other. The part that annoyed me (because why the hell do men sometimes have to be men in such glaring ways?) was the fact that my mother's preacher, and all other preachers from 5th on back, went on and on about the fact that they were beat by a woman. Yeah. She kicked your asses. I would be more impressed if they'd been going on and on about the fact that they were beat by a 50-year-old music director. I'm sorry, but that woman kicked their butts fair and square, and her sex wasn't a factor. And we all *knew* that her sex would be what they joked about. Why not be individuals and say "we got beat by the church pianist!"
Mother is stressing me a bit.
Want to sit and write, but I can't.
Feel like channeling Sterling Marlin and just blowing up.
Yep, after that he said "Done blowed up." The joy of understating it.
(BTW, that picture isn't from yesterday's race. Amazingly there are plenty of pictures of fire and Sterling running from it, but none of yesterday's incident. God forbid we have *those* spectacular pictures.)
And I swear, there has to be a rule that says that the employees of this company have to leave me alone for fives minutes, and that the phone will eventually stop ringing, all so I can fricking go to the bathroom already. *grouchy*
Oh, and I hit some road debris last week and now my car is leaking fluid. Joy.
One project bound and ready to go out the door. Project number two is bearing down hard.
Will be working through lunch. So far no office volunteers to actually get me food. Nicely, head honcho has given me money for the food. Isn't that sweet? He's going to be gone the rest of the day or he'd bring me something, but so sweet!
Have already been asked by head honcho if I'm riding 'em hard, keeping everyone on track. That prompted slightly hysterical laughter from me, followed by (and my exact words were), "I think I'd have better luck keeping Dale Earnhardt Jr. and his crew on track." Which is scarily quite accurate.
Spent Friday night with
bubblesbrnaid. Sorta Sekrit Message: It'll all be good. I'm going to do the overly optimistic thing over here and be a ray of sunshine for you. That way you have a good person to throw foam balls at, or other soft, non-damaging objects. Oh, and Hermie on a stick.Saturday night was the Father's Day thing. We went to Caraway Speedway for the Faster Pastor event. Yeah. A bunch of preachers, one with experience, racing each other. The part that annoyed me (because why the hell do men sometimes have to be men in such glaring ways?) was the fact that my mother's preacher, and all other preachers from 5th on back, went on and on about the fact that they were beat by a woman. Yeah. She kicked your asses. I would be more impressed if they'd been going on and on about the fact that they were beat by a 50-year-old music director. I'm sorry, but that woman kicked their butts fair and square, and her sex wasn't a factor. And we all *knew* that her sex would be what they joked about. Why not be individuals and say "we got beat by the church pianist!"
Mother is stressing me a bit.
Want to sit and write, but I can't.
Feel like channeling Sterling Marlin and just blowing up.
Yep, after that he said "Done blowed up." The joy of understating it.
(BTW, that picture isn't from yesterday's race. Amazingly there are plenty of pictures of fire and Sterling running from it, but none of yesterday's incident. God forbid we have *those* spectacular pictures.)
And I swear, there has to be a rule that says that the employees of this company have to leave me alone for fives minutes, and that the phone will eventually stop ringing, all so I can fricking go to the bathroom already. *grouchy*
Oh, and I hit some road debris last week and now my car is leaking fluid. Joy.
