I am in my pajamas, and I am at work. I avoided Demure, who was breathing up my ass for a meeting today, by leaving for a few hours. Luckily, she was gone when I got back, but I was treated to an e-mail tirade and a mandate to show myself in person tomorrow or else.

Of course, not only do I have to do another outline of my stuff tonight, but it has to include what has come in, wordcounts, etc. I am ready to scream. I am not a fan of organization, so this is my problem. But I am in meetings all day tomorrow and am editing submissions like a maniac right now, and of course my stories aren’t nearly done. Hell, my INTERVIEWS aren’t even done!

But what galls me is the fact that they NEED to see my stories done before the end of the week. I guess it’s a reasonable expectation, given that they’ve never seen my “raw drafts” before. While IKEA Boy did press down the red pen a bit on my stories, it was never for content issues — just journalistic style. I just get the impression that these fuckers are terrified of me writing “Fuck the Veggie Patch” in each article (which, granted, is tempting). I don’t know. I just DESPISE micromanagement by people who couldn’t manage their way out of a paper bag. …

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