Shit, God Dammit, Shit And Fuck

The woman who was supposed to takeover my receptionist job next Monday called today and decided to change her mind. Ass. This means I'm stuck here, answering the God Dammed phones and greeting fucking delivery men and answering inane questions and sitting sitting sitting on my ass through an ad going in the paper, resumes coming in, at least one round of interviews, someone getting hired and giving their two weeks notice at their old job. Fuck. This could take another month. I would have had my new salary in my account starting at the end of this month. In just two weeks, internet.

Being professional, working hard and caring right now? Not fucking easy. In fact. Fuck it.

This is what they get for hiring an INTERIOR DESIGNER WHO JUST WANTED A JOB WITH BENEFITS. That's right. She specializes in colors and patterns and fabrics and...lamps and shit. They had to know this was, at the very least, not going to last long. And here we go. Why do I have to get screwed over for their mistake? I should lobby to start my new job anyway, they should get a temp. Hell, a tree frog could do this job. Anybody got any tree frogs out there? How about a gecko? I hear geckos are smart.

I'm hot and I feel like crying. I think I'll go home for lunch. The one good thing about the fiance being laid off? He can comfort me at home from 1-2 pm.

Enough Already!

I get it. Seriously, I really do. She's young and pretty. She can dance and sing and go on stage in next to nothing and still look fucking good. Her weave is fabulous and her makeup is always exquisite. Sometimes she wears kooky clothes, but she's theatrical; a full-service entertaining diva, so it works on her. Plus, she's got a new cd coming out, so yeah, there's lots of publicity to be done. Honestly, internet. I totally understand the fascination. But? But this, this and this is getting ridiculous. And this? Bullshit. Her boyfriend gave her a $1 million dollar car for her birthday. The least she could do is have the humility to only celebrate being born once. Not here, here and here. I have reached my saturation point.

God dammit, I'm cute too. I have scads of talent, and just because it's not of the singing/dancing/flouncing variety doesn't mean that I and my similarly gifted sisters should be ignored. And a skill she hasn't yet proven? Hat wearin'. I am all over the hat wearin'! Not to mention that I can get dressed without anybody helping me and come out looking just fine, I'll have you know.

Playa hater? Possibly. Happy now? Abso-freakin-lutely.