Piss and Vinegar

I haven’t exactly *mastered* identifying the signs of irrational PMS, but I’m getting there. Light just dawned on Marblehead, when the following thoughts flashed before me, one louder than the next:

1) I am very upset about the location of my new cubicle in the new building. More annoyed at the location than the fact that I no longer have an actual OFFICE even though I am a freaking manager (we all got cubes. The bastards.) These two facts have almost brought me to tears today – twice. Need I remind you that I AM LEAVING THIS NO-GOOD JOB AND STATE and should not care. And really, I don’t. So why am I crying over my cube? A CUBE. IN A JOB I WILL NOT HAVE IN TWO MONTHS.

2) The salami sandwich I got instead of the turkey low-carb wrap I ordered? DEVASTATING. In fact, I’m still not over it. My diet and ENTIRE LIFE is ruined because of nitrates and preserved meat. Thank you, Corporate Chefs, you dumb fucks. I hope you are force-fed salami until you puke.

3) I’m sitting here STEWING over the fact that my downstairs neighbor used most – no, all – of my Oxyclean. The two of us share a washer/dryer, and I left the tub down there for convenience. I have used it twice. It is now empty. I handled this discovery by gracefully slamming the machines open and shut repeatedly, and by standing in the laundry room, which is conveniently outside her bedroom door and exclaiming very loudly, “Fucking CHRIST. I just bought this tub and now it’s gone because some lazy SOW REFUSES TO BUY HER OWN. You must be fucking kidding me. YOU MUST BE FUCKING KIDDING ME YOU CHEAP PAIN IN THE ASS.”

I need to be institutionalized or medicated. Hurry.

11 comments June 15th, 2005