Hump day

I can see how easy it is to get frustrated with my workplace. I really do like what I do, but this micro-management stuff is becoming altogether too reminiscent of Her Royal Pretentiousness at the last job, where I participated in 12 mandatory three-hour meetings (and one eight-hour experience of public humiliation) every month, in addition to a few other impromptu ones. While this place isn’t nearly so bad, I’m getting sick of getting summoned to Pussy Demure’s office to go over all the e-mails sent to me (from members, other staff) that she was copied on. All she wants to do is follow-up on things, and I understand her point of view, but as I am feeling rather combative today (and dreading my supervision meeting with her in a few minutes), she needs to understand that she chose me to handle the responsibility of the position I now have. So for god’s sake, let me do it, instead of calling me to explain how and when I’m handling it when I could, in fact, BE handling it!

Shan’s out today. I hate being here without her — she’s probably the only reason I’ve stayed this long.

One of my teeth cracked last night while I was on the phone with the folks at Two Strikes. A huge chunk of tooth rolled out of my mouth, and a stream of blood followed. Son of a bitch. Not sure where it came from, although I expect it was from the area of my recent wisdom tooth extraction, as one tooth cracked into a bunch of pieces during the procedure. Wonderful.

Well, as if I didn’t suspect it, I completely lose my logic wherever Brat is concerned. I e-mailed him to ask him to come down here to D.C. to accompany me to an event in July, and do you think I’ve heard from him in the past two days? Funny how, when I was on my way to Pittsburgh, he was on the ball and answering messages within 10 minutes. Now that I’m gone, I suppose he had his fun and now he’s done with me. I am too old for this shit. I really am. But the good news is that all I was looking for was a good-looking escort to a cruise I’m taking — and I have no shortage of good-looking men who would be happy to take his place if he doesn’t RSVP soon!


Demure is more than a half hour late to meet with me — her previous supervision meeting has run over. Y’know, not that I wanted to have this fucking meeting, but now I am all antsy, trying not to get too involved in the story I’m writing so that I can jump when she calls. Damn it.

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