Oh I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. Actually, that just me a force of habit, because he hasn�t even spoken to me today.
I actually never even heard my alarm go off this morning before I hit snooze, so obviously, I was exhausted.
Was? Scratch that. I still am.
I woke up at 6:41 am and got into the shower. It�s not like I like taking a shower in the morning either. It�s not refreshing, it�s not relaxing, it�s not something that awakens me into this euphoric bliss to prepare me to go to work. It takes away from my time sleeping. If it wasn�t necessary, I wouldn�t do it.
When I�m done, I go through my normal routine of brushing my teeth and putting on my moisturizer. I do not use anti-aging moisturizer much to the dismay of the lady at the counter at Hudson�s that told me that I�m past my prime. Yes, a 21 year old is supposed to use anti-wrinkle cream. What has the world come to?
Then comes the best part of my morning.
It�s not sitting and sipping a cup of coffee while reading the paper.
It�s not eating breakfast.
It�s not playing with the voodoo doll of B, the Boss (though it should be).
It�s when I wrap my sopping wet hair up into a towel and go back to bed for fifteen minutes. You see, if I immediately blow dry my hair, it would take about fifteen minutes to dry. If I wrap it up in a towel and let it sit for fifteen minutes, it takes about two.
You know me, the least amount of effort in the morning, the better.
So I go back to my bed, reset my alarm for 7:15 am and curl up under the covers and just rest. I�m clean, smooth, soft, warm and blissfully naked under my nice comfy sheets.
The worst part of my morning is, of course, when my alarm goes off for the second time. This part of the morning involves rushing and forgetting things, such as my name tag or textbook.
I used to get up so early every morning, make my hair all pretty, put on makeup, etc. Then I realized that I hate my job, I don�t want to hang out with these people, I�m not trying to impress anyone, so screw it.
Anyway, when I got on the road, I was ten minutes behind schedule. I didn�t really care at this point because for some odd reason, no matter what time I leave in the morning, I always get to the office at the same time. I had contemplated not coming in today, but I had to remind myself that if I wanted every cent of the three grand that was coming my way in the next couple checks, I had to go in.
I was on plumbrook about to turn on to 17 mile to head west. I always get caught at this light. It�s a light at an intersection that divides a residential area with a busier, main road. It gets a lot of traffic, so usually only one or two cars can turn left before the light turns red. I was the first car in line. There were about four or five cars heading the opposite way that were either going straight or turning right, preventing me from turning. Well, the second car gets by when the asshole behind me starts honking like his pants were on fire. I looked in my rearview and he�s motioning for me to get moving.
Get moving where? I can�t turn with cars coming. It�s not like I was being miserly about the situation. Someone really needed to explain to this guy how basic physics works. If I go, the cars will crash into me and that�s just not a consequence I want to suffer so he can get to work thirty seconds faster.
Naturally, I do what every red-blooded American 21 year old girl on her way to an evil job on a Monday would do. I wait until the light turns yellow, hesitate, then go, flipping the guy off in the process.
Somehow, both him and the guy behind him decide to run the light anyway. So they�re behind me. This road that we�re on has two lanes dedicated to the westward traffic and one dedicated to the eastward traffic�for about 20 feet. After that the left lane merges into the right and it�s reduced to one lane each way and a middle turn lane.
Well, asshole guns his pathetic little engine to pass me and I was like, �Uh no, you�re not going to cut me off� so I tail the truck in front of me as close as possible. The truck in front of me also didn�t want to let asshole in, so he followed closely. Well, asshole pushes his little car to the limit, misses the merge and just goes right into the middle lane at about 60 mph. Then he cuts the guy off that was in front of the truck, causing us all to slam on our brakes.
So, this guy was speeding, he improperly used the middle lane, and he cut someone off.
See, there�s something else about this road that I know very well. You don�t ever speed on 17 mile in the morning because of the cop that hides in either the residential area or the Farmer Jack parking lot.
So, asshole got a nice eyeful of red and blue in his rearview and I went on knowing that justice had prevailed�for now.
I swear on everything that is holy, the 30ish professionals are the most angry and psychotic drivers. They all drive their gas-guzzling SUV�s as if were some rally-car race. What is the big freakin hurry? You�re going to work for God�s sake. Regardless, they all sit angrily hunched over their steering wheels, stupidly trying to weave through gridlock.
Aiya, I wonder if B is one of these drivers.
He yelled at AC today for putting in her conclusion, �I do not know what to conclude� in her report. I was actually quite proud of that.
�I was confused about something in your report, AC,� in that telltale, annoying accent.
�What?�
�That line in your conclusion about how you don�t know what to conclude.�
�Ok�.?�
�I don�t understand.�
�Well, neither do I.�
Hahahahahahahahaha! I had to pretend I was sneezing just to avoid him hearing my laugh from my side of our cube.
�How can you not know why I ask for these tests?�
�Because you don�t tell me.�
�What do you mean?�
�You ask me to simulate a test. I do it. You don�t tell me why.�
�Shouldn�t you know?�
�I don�t see how.�
I guess he explained it to her, but score one for the interns! Now all we need is for someone to light up a cigarette and sit hunched over at their desk going, �You people make my ass twitch!� in a French accent.
That would be a reference to the movie French Kiss for those of you who didn�t get it. Ha. Ha. Ha.
I was going to go into my misadventures with the magazine salesman, but my head kinda hurts. Maybe I�ll save that one for later or tomorrow.
Ciao.
