it's all good today

I was in the foulest of moods last night. Work this week has not been fun. There's a woman here that no one likes and she was in full annoying mode yesterday. She's a worthless piece of shit and none of my colleagues can understand why she still has a job. Oh wait, right... she's best friends with our boss. How else would someone who stinks of booze at meetings -- when she decides to show up at them -- stay so gainfully employed at a major company which prides itself on reputation? Furthermore, she disappears for hours on end and when she returns, she's buzzing like there's no tomorrow. I always look for traces of white powder around her nose but so far, she's managed to do a thorough post-snort clean-up job.

What's awful is that after she gets caught doing something really stupid, she tries to make up for it by crafting emails to her coworkers (with her best friend/my manager) cc'd where she makes suggestions or critiques some of OUR work. It's all in a bid to deflect the glaring spotlight from her and to ingratiate herself further to the boss. I can't see that she has much worth here other than creating the allusion that we're all idiots in desperate need of her guidance and direction. For example, when she calls a 9:30am meeting and shows up 45 minutes late, I can expect her to rebound later with a list of "enhancements and other suggestions" about the job I'm doing. Ain't projection grand? I want to soundly beat her ass into an unrecognizable mass of gashes, bruises and welts. Alas, she's a ticking time bomb -- not to mention a complete mess -- and will most certainly self-destruct before long. Bygones.

Issue #2: I have a major pile of laundry in my apartment in desperate need of attention. I went home last night with every intention of doing at least one load to get me back on the plus side of the sock and underwear ledger but the machines were occupied all damn night. I live in a very small apartment building where one washer and one dryer is usually enough to satisfy the tenants. However, the buildings to the left and right of mine share a landlord and a front door key so those asswipes always use our machines. I can only surmise that they are the biggest bunch of smelly dirtbags because they are always washing load after load after load. What's worse is that they leave their fucking wet clothes in the machine long after the final cycle is complete. I came home last night to find both the washer and dryer -- not running -- loaded with clothes. I don't want to go pawing through people's stuff so removing the clothes from the machines myself is NOT an option. One day, I arrived at the machine precisely 1 minute after my load was washed and someone had placed my clean clothes on top of the dusty dryer. That person is lucky I didn't catch him/her doing it because I would have shoved enough Snuggle sheets down his/her throat to choke a horse. So last night I checked in from time to time to see if the stuff had been removed and somehow, someone else managed to sneak in and load up the machines... and then leave their fucking clothes in there for hours afterwards. Next to the coked-up waste of space I work with, these people are high on my shit list. I hope someone accidentally leaves something red in the machine when they are doing a load of whites.

And then, finally, the fucking Red Sox won. I'm not pleased but now maybe they and their fans will once and for all stop their bellyaching. Speaking of the World Series, I have a coupla questions:

1. Um, did St. Louis even show up? Wasn't this the team with like the best record in baseball? I think I could have put up better batting numbers, boys. And don't get me started on your base running!

2. And why the hell is Manny the MVP? I despise Curt Schilling but Good Lord, the man was hobbled, played through the pain and inspired his team. Again, I hate him but I think he was more of a standout than Hairy Bloated Manny.

But, this morning, all is good. My boy Philip Roth was on the Today show discussing his new book, The Plot Against America. That man NEVER does interviews yet he granted one to Katie Couric. Um, Phil, what's up with that? I figured you more for a Charlie Rose or 60 Minutes man myself. I'm still trying to figure how Katie of all people landed this plum get but whatever, the point is, I heard Philip Roth speak. ::swoon:: Nothing else matters now... except those fucking Red Sox ads that keep appearing on my blog. If you'll excuse me, I need to go to my Google AdSense account to continue aggressively filtering out any mention of that much-loathed band of hairy beasts.