|Oy, me aching head!
||[Dec. 1st, 2010|10:25 am]
Despite yesterday being a day of relative success -- with actual real progress on the two contracts I have due before the end of the year, upon which a promotion hinges, giving me a slight glimmer of hope that this might actually get done -- all I want to do is either crawl under the covers for three days, or push someone down a flight of stairs. |
And, Unnamed Colleague in charge of my expense report approval, do not take an entire freaking MONTH to get me a password so that I can then struggle with trying to learn our bizarre system for submission (fax my receipts...really? They've got this cool new thing called "scanning") not to mention the 4 different submission screens for each expense...dude, I was able to do my TAXES in less time than this took...do not get all up in my skirt because I submitted the expense report LATE. I already had to pay interest because it took you 30 days to grant me access. Then I had to pay interest again because I couldn't access my online credit card statement because I didn't remember my password, and I couldn't get a new password because I couldn't find the f-ing credit card...Dude, I've been paying 15% interest on that $2,0000. I have been punished enough. I don't need a snippy "reminder" from you, the very person who stonewalled the process in the first place.
I am LOOKING for an excuse to choke the last breath out of some jackwagon. Right now, you're lucky. You're downstairs, lost in the maze of vealpens, and I have no idea what you look like. Do NOT make it worth my while to hunt you down.
Sigh. I was blaming my aching head and raw stomach and overall malaise on Saturday night's overindulgence. And there is no question that I over-indulged. There's a reason I mostly drink beer and cider -- they tend to leave my "hey, now, that's enough of that, time for a Diet Mountain Dew" trigger intact. Cocktails...pretty much run roughshod over my ability to judge when enough is enough. My luck to have a lovely man who makes lovely cocktails.
But it is now Wednesday and I feel like my stomach has been scraped raw with a chipped oyster shell and my head is pretty much throbbing in time with my pulse and keeps threatening to float off my neck, because apparently, sometimes, pain is lighter than air.
I don't know which thought is more tragic: that I'm getting sick with something or that in my dotage I've developed the ability to have a hangover last four days. Sigh.
You know what I need? This:
I need to be sitting in one of those. Right now. So do several of you. Although, no offense, you'll have to sit in your own. Me and my dark cloud will fill up the one. And plants are awesome healers, but they need a little room to work.
Oh I need one of those.
Just when I had finally crawled out of my fear induced paralysis, the federal marshalls (and other sundry abc xyz places) about one of our employees.
...and I just spent the last two hours digging up everything but his mother's maiden name.
At least I know he's in custody and not likely to come find me because he'll KNOW it was me. I'm the only one who saw the check with his pseudo corporation/anti-government group listed ... which he promptly asked to get back but I had made a copy of first.
btw - I'll pay good money if you'll push someone down the stairs - your pick: mine, yours, someone elses ... I'm easy that way.
Woman, you should be paid for the turns of phrase you originate. "scraped raw with a chipped oyster shell'? imagery magic.