The man has finally gotten to me.
I had dream after dream last night about my battle to be able to wear flip flops at my job. How sad is that? when I was a kid my dad would come home, plop right down on our couch and turn into mr. zombie man until dinner time. Then he would encourage me to act a fool at the dinner table in order to entertain him for a bit. Now I know why people have kids. I swear if I don't get a puppy or pop out a baby soon I'm gonna go nuts! Where's my joyous laughter post work?!
Who dreams about company dress code policy unless they really have been worked too hard by the man?! I loathe the man. The man is evil. Not only does he have the ability to remind me daily that acting is a far off dream he also puts me face to face with the most annoying people in the world—this includes people who makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little every time I see them. Who wants to live this life for me? any takers?
"Going once….twice….three times a crazy"…. (it's catchy isn't it?)
The only good thing about work is my ability to pull my outside life in from time to time. Yesterday I called my great grandma who's in the hospital currently. She told me she'd be fine and then went on to tell me more about my supposed prophecies and the fact that when I do have money I'm buying her botox, lypo, implants and new dentures…88 year old cougar people, watch out!
These things make the day go by faster. Emails to my peeps…writing your myspace blog at work…what can I say…I'm trying to be find new and innovative ways to make these days a bit more interesting.
They say it's not the destination but more so the journey. Well this work journey of mine blows. "don't stop believing…" the band is callin' out to me. it's a sign.
Ok I'm officially hitting food coma time here at my good ole place of employment so I'm gonna go now. I figure I'll throw all my hair around my face, put a pen in my hand, pull up an intricate spreadsheet that I can get away with not scrolling thru for long periods of time…perfect decoys while I sleep at my desk…in the very open. : )
( point 1 for tish stickin' it BACK to the man)