Nothing special

But enough about the workplace. lol. I hate it. I know it could be worse (i.e., I could have Shan’s job, and I don’t care if she does make several thousands of dollars more than me, it ain’t worth it to serve as Kumquat’s chief ass-wiper. And she’s deathly sick right now and is heading for a breakdown if things don’t change soon.

In other hellish news, Demure called a meeting with me tomorrow to “check in.” Cripes, it hasn’t even been a full week since the big Dawn-bashing fiesta — what possibly could I have accomplished since then?

I’m sure my readers won’t be surprised that I’m behind with my monthly stories. lol. I just don’t care anymore. As usual. I had gotten a brilliant head-start before that stupid Veggie Patch Gazette Summit last Tuesday, and after that, my enthusiasm died right there in that conference room. My stories were on the path to excellence — now they’re on the train tracks to hell. My heart hurts. And today was a complete waste of a decent outfit. 🙂 I updated my resume again today — time to start shopping myself out as a freelancer! My five-year-old iMac is dying and is begging to be replaced, only computers ain’t cheap.

I had a weird flash in my mind the other day that the cruise director here at Club Medicated was going to offer me the editor’s job. Eventually. Not right away though — I’m cheap labor right now, and they’re going to milk that for as long as they can. But I did get an intimation that they might send J-Ho (my predecessor, who now makes $40K-$50K/year doing special freelance projects for Kumquat) to the convention next month to help me. Oh fucking goody. Like Shan and I say, Shoot Me Now!!!

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