||[Sep. 26th, 2002|05:58 pm]
I have been in a bad mood since last night and, despite feeling somewhat productive today and having an invitation to hang out with co-workers, I am not feeling up to it. This is quite typical, however. I complain there is nothing to do and when there is something to do, I don't feel like doing it.
It looks like I have to work on Saturday - at least part of the day. I am going to try and avoid it if possible and do some family stuff. I will have the rest of the day to either mess around at work with the Tiaras, Cisco routers or whatever OR I can study.
It also seems that, after the shitstorm that blew through two weeks ago, the verdict per some departments is I am to be blown off overtly. Fuque it (I speak Canadian). It is pretty damned immature that someone has to pretend work is a damned sandbox they feel some need to control. Pathetic parody of a Machiavelli character.
You know, I bust ass to be about 300% more friendly in this place than I really am and I am tired of it being thrown back in my face. If I wanted to deal with that much shit, I would have studied to be a proctologist. It is bad enough I have to deal with the cyclothymic histrionics of a moron at my work who obviously earned her ethics from Soap Opera University (and, given her general (lack of) knowledge level, obviously every other discipline came from that Alma Mater, too) but I am sick of the shitty driving, no-turn-signal-using, happy-to-be-living-in-an-ass-backward-city assheads who seem to have a life goal of serial divorces and musical apartments until they realize, 50 years later, they still have no marketable skills and are content to slowly waste away on the pittance of retirement they likely started saving at age 50 (read: far too late (duh!)) and state-sponsored welfare programs. Goddamned Farquaads. Oh!? You never got that joke in the first place. Moron!
I feel less like the only Professor in a world of Gilligans and more like the only Neo in a world of Green Acres characters. Whoa!