2004-03-12 - 12:21 p.m.
It has been one of those weeks. A grey pallor casts a shadow against my life. My sole purpose this week was to consume as much television and food as I humanly could. I wish I could say it was filled with excess of alcohol and sex, but rubbing astringent on my face the morning after I double click the mouse doesn�t count. It calls to mind the scene from Empire records where the artist guy asks the guy from Dazed and Confused, �What�s with you today?� and he responds, �What�s with today, today?�
I think this week blew because the system failed me, the system being my ability to remain optimistic and see the world as a basically good place despite all the negative bullshit that happens. This week was specifically created to break me of that skill. It started on Tuesday, my boss, previously characterized here as a pizza-eating, jealous hearted bitch, revealed another layer of her true colors early Tuesday morning. She gathered us together to share the good news that a co-worker, who�d been out on disability, was returning to work. Keep in mind that I�ve been the person who picked up the most of her slack, and the last few months have raised my stress levels to numbers unbecoming of a lady.
�So I�m happy to tell you all that QQ is coming back on Monday!� She looks around the room, waiting for a collective applause or showing of emotion. This woman has the uncanny idea that we should all mirror to her whatever it is she�s feeling, so because she�s shitting a brick, we should collectively excrete a brick-faced townhouse.
I know it irks her when people don�t snap to, so my face remains impassive. Take that, evil doer.
�Pencopal, I�m sure you�ll be the happiest to have her back,� she says. �I just about cried with relief when she told me, because now I won�t have to hire a freelancer!� See, it�s always about her. This girl shattered her leg and there was a chance she�d lost use of it. The only thing our bitch of a boss worries about is how that will affect her life. What a shithead.
�And�..she�s going to set me up with her physical therapist,� she exclaims, looking around the room again, waiting for us have a group orgasm at the prospect of her finally getting laid. My other co-workers congratulate her, say all the stuff she wants to hear. I paste the most fake smile you�ve ever seen across my face; it�s practically a grimace. I feel her radar zero in on me, but I�m wearing a protective fuck you shield, so none of her evil rays get through. She�s leaning against the door to her office, staring right into my eyes, as if she could telepathically force me to join in this asinine conversation about her dating this physical therapist. I stare right back, daring her to say something, so I can eat her face off and reveal the true alien that looms inside. It was actually quite weird, this semi-showdown/staredown. I half expected a giant piece of tumbleweed to blow between us. It�s a non-verbal fuck you, my silence, and we both know it.
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