I’m currently trying my absolute wife-like best to not get super pissy about NOT running this morning…

NOT running when…

[begin pouty face and whiny voice] the temperature was in the low 70s!…THE LOW DAMN 70s!…This obviously means that tomorrow will be like LAST WEEKEND….in the high 70s and “feels like 80+”

…dammit…dammit…trying…I’m trying here…TRYING not to go yell upstairs all, “WE SHOULD HAVE RUUNNNN!”….

And NOT getting pissy is MONUMENTALLY CHALLENGING right now…ladies, if you catch my drift…or…flow…guys…welcome to the TMI train.

See, the reason why I’m not supposed to be mad is I have no right to be mad is because it’s my fault.

I gave Tim a moldy fruit salad for lunch yesterday.

And he ate it….er…most of it.

So, his stomach is kind of mad at HIM.

Because of ME.

Now, in my semi-defense, I didn’t know it was moldy…

*sigh*

The should-have-just-sucked-the-shit-right-the-hell-up-we-would-have-been-DONE-BY-NOW angry feeling is hard pressed to leave me……..

So, let us move on to other anger-inducing subjects, shall we?

All of which happened to me between……Monday….annnnnd…..right now.

Case # 15,986: Firing someone for the first time.

This was a non-fun activity that involved lots of super secret planning. Now, I can’t lie and say the super secret planning didn’t make me feel like I was involved in some kind of awesome espionage…because it SO DID…but once it came down to sitting face to face and actually telling my assistant…we’ll call her Polly (because names, of course, must be changed to protect the incompetent)…it wasn’t so exciting.

The President and the Director of Education were both there with me and both volunteered to do the dirty work for me, since I had never done it before, but I was all, “No. I’ll do it.”

I mean, it’s not like I’m going to have the chance to do this again…maybe not ever…because I’m currently in the middle of another super secret plan that involves things like me not working ever again….and the lottery.

Obviously, this plan is failing miserably.

But the firing plan, unlike the lottery one, went off without much fuss. Once Polly was brought into the President’s Office by the Director, where the President and I were already parked, I waited for her to sit down and then I made myself pretend I was acting in a movie. It worked well enough for me to get the words out without sounding like a complete moron. Then Polly handed over her stuff and walked out with the President. It was over in like…five minutes.

I felt relieved. It was FINALLY. OVER.

No more documenting and daily meetings and…lots and lots and lots and lots of unnecessary crap.

Except, little did my super naïve brain know, the aftermath is way worse than the actual event.

Which brings us to Case # 784,230: The Firing Aftermath

The night it happened, a student comes up to her former office, where I happened to be standing and was all, Where’s Polly?”

I tell him, “She no longer works with the company. How can I help you?”

And he’s all, “Why not? When is she coming back?”

Me: “She’s not coming back.”

And he rolls his eyes and walks off, all pissed and huffy…and then comes back about two hours later and is all, “When’s Polly coming back?”

Ummm….did I not make myself clear the FIRST time we started this conversation?

Then, yesterday, otherwise known as Day Two of The Aftermath, on top of getting the stink eye from lots of her little clique of bandits, a student was, literally and loudly, chanting down the hall, while pumping his fist in the air, “Bring Back Polly! Bring Back Polly!”

I looked at him with the evil eye all, “That isn’t appropriate and you need to stop saying that down the hallway.”

Then he was all, “Well, what happened? WHY IS SHE GONE?”

And I, along with two other employees who happened to be standing next to me, had to explain that it was A: None of his damn business and B: Not “legally permissible” for us to disclose.

He then decided to bitch and moan about how no one but Polly was on “his team” and “understood him” and “looked out for him” and (this is the part where the “one of these things is not like the other” begins) how all students should be provided laptops. Because they “pay so much to go here.”

Seriously?

SERIOUSLY?

I’m convinced that once his generation…which is like, 0.5 behind mine…takes over the world, it’s all going to hell. These people (who call themselves GROWN ASS WO/MEN) want everyone to DO everything FOR THEM…it should all be handed to them on a silver platter with glitter emanating from the rims and fairies strumming on harpsichords.

What I really want to say to those little bitches?

Fuck right the hell off and go devise a grand plan involving how YOU will get a laptop since the computers within the walls of the school AREN’T ENOUGH for YOU.

They need to change their names to grown ass whiny bitch fuckfaces.

(When I said “anger-inducing” I really had no idea it was going to get to this level….I’m even surprising myself at the level of animosity)

Case # 513: Office Relocations Are Full of Suck

Along with everything ELSE I had to do this week…I also had to move my office to another one. The President is trying to convey “change is good” to the entire group of bitter non-changers.

Personally, I really don’t care. Truly do not give two lawn gnomey shits where I move to…because I’m still hoping my super awesome lottery plan pans out. Which, if you say it enough times, like Dorothy, you will get to wherever it is you need to be.

I think what I’m missing are those sparkly red shoes…

Anyhow, this relocation plan has already – after TWO DAYS – made my at-work life miserable because, as irony would have me, I was directed to move into the (now former) office the THE BITTER QUEEN, who has been in that damn space for FIVE YEARS and loves to complain about everything. To everyone. ALL THE TIME.

And I just do not have the brain capacity to deal with all of said negativity without wanting to go run through a mine field blindfolded.

So I sweated and grunted and moved lots of shit that wasn’t mine into an office that was disgusting because, on top of all of the bitterness that leaks out of her mouth at a constant drip, she has disorganization and piling behavior. As in: nothing gets put away, it just goes onto another stack on the desk or on the floor or on another pile that already exists and the word “proactive” means that thirty seconds before something is due, you’ll see a flurry of paper and dust coming from her office door.

Also, everyone keeps walking in with a confused look all, “Um…who are YOU?”

Life is super terrific right now.

And I’m still kind of pissed about the NOT running.

But not AS pissed as I am when I realize that I’m going to have to deal with all of the aforementioned rhinoceros poo until….well, I don’t.

Which, right now, is kind of a long time. Forever, as far as I can see. There is no end to this dark tunnel. And the tunnel might just be the rhino’s ass tube, for all I know…

And, by the way, is a bunch (pack? pride? raggle?) of rhinoceros rhinoceri or rhinoceroses or rhinoceros’s?….

I say rhinoceri.

Tim says rhinoceroses.

The internet says a group of rhinoceroses (FINE. He’s right) is called a crash. Now, THAT is fantastic.

Wait! I think I just found my silver lining!

THIS TIME TOMORROW, after the long run, I should LOSE WEIGHT instead of NOT LOSING ANY WEIGHT like last weekend.

I stepped off the scale and was all, “How can I run THIRTEEN MILES and lose ZERO WEIGHT?”

The probable non-weight loss from last week and almost guaranteed this week is thanks to the TMI I already mentioned and should probably not compare to something like chunky tomato soup.

I know. TMI. Again.

Blame it on the broken brain-to-mouth filter. Or, in this case, brain-to-typing fingers filter.

Toodles!