Friday, December 21, 2007


(* = all the times I wanted to type the F word, but didn't because my mother reads this. ONLY because my mother reads this. I am a good daughter.)

If one more * person pops their little * face into my office to tell me there's food in the * conference room, I'm going to throw my * stapler at them.

I am well aware that there is food in the * conference room. I can smell it. Buca de Beppos. Yummy. But I'm not hungry right now. When I get hungry, I will be more than happy to take part in the eating. Apparently, everyone is concerned with my * eating habits. "Have you gotten any food, Raechelle? You are eating today, right?" "Have you gotten yer grub, Raechelle? Ya know, pizza isn't going to kill you!" "Be sure to get some food, Raechelle."

Plus, I'm fighting with Office Max over the stupid * green paper they sent me. I ordered green and they sent me celery. I do not want celery. I want GREEN. There is a difference! My job isn't rocket science here, but dammit, the green paper is IMPERATIVE to my project! It cannot be celery!

I think I'm done for the day.
I declare this work day over and vacation has begun. Woohoo!

Who's with me?

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