Why couldn't it be me?

I'm sitting here, at my desk, in the sub-zero space known to be the office. At the risk of sounding like a bitch-fest, it has so far been one of those days. I walk in to a nagging, yelling, angry boss telling me I was wrong. I was wrong for other people screwing up and I was wrong for not predicting other people would screw up and I was wrong for not correcting the screw ups. Even though I haven't worked since Friday. I was wrong. And apparently I am in charge of three people now. Sounds cool, but if you realized the peasant's wages I earn, you would shat yourself in embarrassing laughter.

And I don't know what my deal is lately, but I've been in a crazy obnoxious mood. Have you ever felt like you were about to literally go insane? I think that's how I feel. Like any day now I am going to start seeing an imaginary friend who follows me everywhere. Maybe I'll start talking to him. His name will be Marc, or Steve, or whatever he wants. After all, I'll be the only one that can see him. I'm talking Drop Dead Fred kind of crazy. Which, by the way, was a phenomenal movie. It might be neat at first, but it wouldn't turn out nearly as cool as "A Beautiful Mind." I would be the real-life version. I'd get locked up for talking to myself in public, having intercourse with inanimate objects, and to top it off, I would only have a marginally OK mind. Nothing beautiful about that.

But my dissatisfaction with work is at an all-time high. This is higher than the moving-back-home incident of 2006 - and that was a hard time, indeed. I've passed the point of anger. For a while I wanted to literally staple people's mouths together. Now, it's more a self-inflicting pain I desire. The reason is simple. I could hypothetically staple every on the employees' mouths together and beat them senseless with their own shoes. But time has proven again and again and again that stupidity follows stupidity. And when the next batch of little fucktards comes through the door, I'm going to want to do the same thing. And that would just waste a lot of staples. So if I can mame myself in some way, I think we'll be better off.

In fact, I've recently taken to climbing high ladders to replace light bulbs and such - my only wish, that somebody bumps the madder and I come crashing down and break an arm. Worker's Comp, how lovely you sound. It's not that I'm lazy and not that I am afraid to leave. There are no jobs locally worth my time now. I look. Every day. And when I close my eyes, all I see is a sad face :(

That being said, I know that one day, some lucky little bastard is going to be hanging Christmas lights along the ceiling when he loses his balance and falls through the glass display case. Everybody will be rushing to help him. I will be standing back, crying, wishing it was me. That lucky little prick.

PS, it snowed here yesterday. :)