Friday, August 19, 2005
Attack of the grump
Today is not going well for old Mike, let me tell you. Actually there really hasn't been a whole lot of shit going down today that would piss me off. But I'm pissed off just the same. You want some? You want a little? Come and get it, jackpipe. I got a lotta mo!
My brain hurts. How can a brain hurt? There aren't any nerves in the brain that let the brain actually "feel" anything. How weird is that? It processes every sensation in the human body, except for itself. How feminine. If brains were boys, they'd be all "damn, my fucking medula oblongata is killing me today. I think I'll let the rest of my body know by shutting down my left leg, ceasing fingernail growth, and popping random boners when I fart." But it seems that brains are girls. And mine's being a big ol skank bitch today.
I've been processing my fucking speadsheets for about seventeen years now, starting yesterday. This is the shit I hate. My company has got me deployed out to a new site implementation. Now don't get me wrong. I love doing new implementations. They give me the opportunity to meet new people, evaluate shitty processes that piss everyone off, and have a great big fat chunk of impact on the new site before I pass it on to someone else to manage. But this one is fucking hard. Their processes are absolute shit. I have personally had to sort through sixty-three spreadsheets this week. Sixty-mothereffing-three!
So this morning I get to work and my supervisor shows up. He has other sites to worry about too so I don't see him that often. But today we have an early teleconference with Bob. Bob is the new operations manager for the whole company. Bob wants a report on our progress out here at the new site. Bob is pissing me the fuck off. I spent several hours meticulously writing a set of reports on all the shit I've been doing and success I've had. I say I because I'm the only one here. But of course my supervisor seems to enjoy throwing out the "we"s and "us"s. I guess it's the team aspect here. So after we go through all the fucking work I've done, what do I hear?
"Where are the graphs?"
"Well since the denominator is so dynamic, the progress chart that we'd established in our first week is no longer blah blah blah"
"I understand, but I need to see graphs."
You corporate fucking cocksmoker! I've been absolutely killing myself here to get the work actually done and all you can say is that you want me to chart out some retarded, absolutely baseless fucking graph? I swear, I mean how many grown men earning two and three times what I make does it take to sit around and talk about what I alone accomplish?!? I need to get in on this.
Anyway, today I'm grumpy. Nina keeps trying to cheer me a little. I just don't want to sit around fucking whining about this bullshit. Yes my days are hard. Yes the hours are hard. Yes my body and mind are a fucking wreck right now. Does it do me a shred of good to sit around on my few off moments and fucking bitch about it? Is this venting? If so, then I don't need it. Nina's so fucking upset all day every fucking day about all the bullshit she has to put up with. She vents to me about it. I want her to. And, fuck it, I'm a selfish asshole. Sometimes I wish she'd just stop complaining about her life. Not because mine is harder, like she thinks. But wouldn't it be nice if I could go a couple days and just have a happy, pleasant, nothing gets me down wife to come home to? Fuck it, she's human too. I'll just lay there and listen. This is what it's all about.
The problem comes in when she fails to cheer me up. She starts getting all hurt feelings and then becomes angry, or hurt, or something. I'm a boy, don't expect a lot. Anyway, once she's upset, my life is twice as shitty. Now I have mission impossible during the day, retarded whiney assholes in the evening, an angry wife at night, and 2.5 hours of commuting to get me from one to the next. Great.
My weekend should be really great though. Nina set me up with an hour massage and a facial tomorrow afternoon. It's my first facial. I don't know if I'll like it, but Nina insisted that it was awesome and that I just had to do it. So I'm doing it. But I am really looking forward to the massage. Then it's sushi and sake. Then whatever the fuck I feel like, I'm fucking doing. So there.
Argh, fuck life. Not permanently. Just fuck life today. I'll be better after my massage I think. Maybe I'll have a beer at lunch. Maybe four. No, that's just ten more dollars that I shouldn't be spending. Oh well.
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My brain hurts. How can a brain hurt? There aren't any nerves in the brain that let the brain actually "feel" anything. How weird is that? It processes every sensation in the human body, except for itself. How feminine. If brains were boys, they'd be all "damn, my fucking medula oblongata is killing me today. I think I'll let the rest of my body know by shutting down my left leg, ceasing fingernail growth, and popping random boners when I fart." But it seems that brains are girls. And mine's being a big ol skank bitch today.
I've been processing my fucking speadsheets for about seventeen years now, starting yesterday. This is the shit I hate. My company has got me deployed out to a new site implementation. Now don't get me wrong. I love doing new implementations. They give me the opportunity to meet new people, evaluate shitty processes that piss everyone off, and have a great big fat chunk of impact on the new site before I pass it on to someone else to manage. But this one is fucking hard. Their processes are absolute shit. I have personally had to sort through sixty-three spreadsheets this week. Sixty-mothereffing-three!
So this morning I get to work and my supervisor shows up. He has other sites to worry about too so I don't see him that often. But today we have an early teleconference with Bob. Bob is the new operations manager for the whole company. Bob wants a report on our progress out here at the new site. Bob is pissing me the fuck off. I spent several hours meticulously writing a set of reports on all the shit I've been doing and success I've had. I say I because I'm the only one here. But of course my supervisor seems to enjoy throwing out the "we"s and "us"s. I guess it's the team aspect here. So after we go through all the fucking work I've done, what do I hear?
"Where are the graphs?"
"Well since the denominator is so dynamic, the progress chart that we'd established in our first week is no longer blah blah blah"
"I understand, but I need to see graphs."
You corporate fucking cocksmoker! I've been absolutely killing myself here to get the work actually done and all you can say is that you want me to chart out some retarded, absolutely baseless fucking graph? I swear, I mean how many grown men earning two and three times what I make does it take to sit around and talk about what I alone accomplish?!? I need to get in on this.
Anyway, today I'm grumpy. Nina keeps trying to cheer me a little. I just don't want to sit around fucking whining about this bullshit. Yes my days are hard. Yes the hours are hard. Yes my body and mind are a fucking wreck right now. Does it do me a shred of good to sit around on my few off moments and fucking bitch about it? Is this venting? If so, then I don't need it. Nina's so fucking upset all day every fucking day about all the bullshit she has to put up with. She vents to me about it. I want her to. And, fuck it, I'm a selfish asshole. Sometimes I wish she'd just stop complaining about her life. Not because mine is harder, like she thinks. But wouldn't it be nice if I could go a couple days and just have a happy, pleasant, nothing gets me down wife to come home to? Fuck it, she's human too. I'll just lay there and listen. This is what it's all about.
The problem comes in when she fails to cheer me up. She starts getting all hurt feelings and then becomes angry, or hurt, or something. I'm a boy, don't expect a lot. Anyway, once she's upset, my life is twice as shitty. Now I have mission impossible during the day, retarded whiney assholes in the evening, an angry wife at night, and 2.5 hours of commuting to get me from one to the next. Great.
My weekend should be really great though. Nina set me up with an hour massage and a facial tomorrow afternoon. It's my first facial. I don't know if I'll like it, but Nina insisted that it was awesome and that I just had to do it. So I'm doing it. But I am really looking forward to the massage. Then it's sushi and sake. Then whatever the fuck I feel like, I'm fucking doing. So there.
Argh, fuck life. Not permanently. Just fuck life today. I'll be better after my massage I think. Maybe I'll have a beer at lunch. Maybe four. No, that's just ten more dollars that I shouldn't be spending. Oh well.
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