A La Carp

Damn this nonsense I tell you. Damn this nonsense of people and projects not operating the way I think they should. I am trying very hard to accomplish a ridiculously long list of company "honey do's", and damned if the system ain't workin' against me. Who the hell actually knows where the company ORIGINALS are of vehicular registration and insurance??? I seem to be able to locate a pathetic and useless combination of copies for 4 separate vans and/or trailers, and NOTHING that combined, will allow the good people of Hawaii to give me a damned safety check...which I need in order to register the van and trailer...which I need to drive...in order to run a tour...which is my job-albeit perhaps temporarily, at the rate of my bad mouthing beloved employers...which my Auntie has been quick to call me on and constructively criticize.

Allow me to defend: I speak rather candidly to the face of the very man I publicly harass. While I rant and ramble over the things that annoy me or put me off, I do in fact love my job, very much, and even more so, the people I work with. I tell them this at least as much as I tell them the rest. While verbal "puking" has certainly been a topic of concern to me in deciding to publish my thoughts on the internet-many of which could certainly be categorized as bodily functions or fluids-I find a certain level of interest in staying raw and true to experience. I suck at keeping my pains and opinions to myself. However, if I had never said a word of what I wrote, to the person I was targeting, I doubt that I'd have written it. I believe rather fiercely that honesty is the only policy...and that can kick a girl in the ass. Further more, I maintain a significant level of protectiveness toward the people in my world-after all, it is my world. I do not mention names, and I do not advertise company labels (not that it'd be hard to figure out and top it off with the fact that I'm a lousy liar, so you could likely just ask). I tell it the way I want to-like a spoiled, bratty child-and hopefully make it clear that this is my immature, self-centered, ridiculously opinionated rampage, not the bloody gospel. Mind you, the world would be a better place if you heathens would treat it as such.

Ah ha ha!

Ah ha ha people! You're going to let me get away with all of this? Come now, not a single critic in the audience? Not to antagonize, but I find the temptation almost too delicious. Could I possibly have the entire stage to myself and no one watching??? Almost too good to be true! How long can it last? How long 'til the silence is broken? Oh public diary...

Wormy little man in the corner...

Hidden muses...

Objects of attraction...

A-mercan

I work for a man who embodies the absolute American communication tactic (and would likely fire for saying that). "Maybe if I say it louder and slower, the heathens will better understand the important message I have to deliver."

I've just spent the last hour and a half weeding through a website he designed, and it's ever so much like having a conversation with the man himself. You walk away feeling pummeled with mass amounts of information, all of which is:

R-E-A-L-L-Y F-U-C-K-I-N-G I-M-P-O-R-T-A-N-T
AND MUST BE MEMORIZED, TATOOED AND BRANDED INTO YOUR PSYCHE OR YOU WILL FAIL AND BE A HUGE DISAPPOINTMENT TO THE COMPANY

...Only to discover on the flip side of a 48 hr adrenaline rush and anxiety attack, that maybe a quarter of it was important enough to be worth mentioning...once, not three times, and all of it could be accomplished without the use of capital letters, exclamations or massive fonts. But hey, go team. I have to go take my blood pressure meds now so I can drink some more coffee later.

Good man, just f-ing intense. And yes, thank god I'm such a picinic.

Eeeeew, there's a little worm of a man strutting and boasting himself all over the coffee shop...and his little soccer shorts have made their way into his butt crack.