Pain in my ass

Tuesdays just suck. They are the absolute worst day of the week, save for “American Idol” episodes, when I remember to watch. 🙂 Tuesdays are sandwiched between the hell of Mondays and the joy of three more full workdays after they are done. There ain’t nothin’ to look forward to on Tuesdays … it’s like having some scandalous underwear wedged into your ass that you can’t pick out right away because you’re in a room full of people you need to impress.

Speaking of having objects jammed into one’s nether regions, today will be consumed by a mandatory staff luncheon (!) and a meeting right afterward to decompress about our adventures in California. And tomorrow, I begin the first of weekly mandatory supervision meetings with Pussy Demure. She had a piss fit on me yesterday about blowing off the last meeting she tried to schedule. Um, what part of my e-mail (sent Saturday afternoon!) that said, “I’m deeply concerned that the number of mandatory meetings I must attend will greatly — and negatively — impact the production of the magazine this month,” did she MISS?!?! Gawd, I had it good for awhile when I started here — I was dirt-ass poor, but nobody really even noticed if I showed up or not. Those were the days. …

But I hear King Kumquat, the executive director, purchased an $800 lunch out of his own pocket for us. Can you imagine? It’s all barbecue and ribs and chicken and shit too — reminds me of, oh, every luncheon ever held at Two Strikes (although at Two Strikes, we also had to have cornbread, cornbread-battered fish, cornbread-battered chicken, spinach and greens with every meal, too, so this is a marked improvement).

Speaking of Two Strikes, I am trying to interview one of their less literate employees for an article I’m writing on foster care, which is their specialty. I chose this person based on position only, not for ease of interview. She expressed a great deal of apprehension, at which time I actually e-mailed her the questions and told her to knock herself out. (One only could hope that she would knock herself out … permanently.) I left a message for My Hero last night, asking if they were afraid I would write about how much I hate the agency. lol. I have an interview for that same story today, but if Dumb Bitch at Two Strikes doesn’t come through, I don’t have a story. Humph. Like I need anything else to do — I already have six stories (none of them done yet) and the production of the paper in general. Kill me.

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