How my love for soccer healed me........

Sooooo, I had to work late last night. Not that its unusual, but I wasn't pleased. Today I woke up at 6.30 am to throw the alarm clock across the room. Then I rolled over and went back to bed. I woke at 7.30 am again to walk across the room, pick up the alarm clock from where I threw it last, open the battery case, remove the batteries and throw the damn thing in the thrash. What was it thinking? Waking me up to go to work. Yeah, that. So I got back into bed until my damn girlfriends starting emailing me at 9.30 am. The damn blackberry (which I will hereafter refer to as my parole officer or ankle bracelet) starting vibrating. I thought it was my boss so I rolled over, picked it up, cursed silently and read the email. It wasn't just one email, but five...... from my friends. Nothing in particular. Just idle chatter. I turned the damn ankle bracelet off and went back to sleep. I woke up at 10am to someone pounding on my front door. Apparently, something with the plumbing? whatev!! I'd had enough. I pulled on my sweats, brushed my teeth, packed up my stuff and headed to work---to work out.
As I walked into the office building the security guard at the front desk stopped to ask if she could help me. I guess she didn't recognize me because I wasn't in a suit. My face hadn't changed. I still had the same ratty ponytail. Apart from my outfit or lack thereof, I looked the same as I did when I walked out of the office building last night. She was really testing my patience. She repeated herself three time and I answered three times saying "no." Then she stepped up in my face, in my personal space and repeated herself. Ok, last straw. I turned around and told her "look you wench. [and i used wench because she knew damn well who i was. she just doesn't that to all the noncaucasian folks who work in the building. damn wench].....No you cannot help me." Let me ask you three questions.....
Me: are you going to give me the winning mega million numbers?
Wench: No ..........(looking quite confused and appropriately perturbed)
Me: are you going to find me a rich husband?
Wench: No..........(looking freaked out)
Me: Are you going to do my job for me?
Wench: No...........(looking pissed and starting to get confrontational
Me: Then NO, you can't freaggin help me. Why are you asking me if you can help me when you know you can't? Why are you asking me if you can help me if its not going to change the fact that I still have to go upstairs to work? If you're not going to go upstairs and sit in my office and do my damn job and deal with those rasses i deal with on the regular, then NO, you cannot help me and don't ask me if you can. Just stay out of my way. I'm going down the hall to the gym, work out my aggression on the treadmill and head upstairs to my office. Just stay out of my freaggin way ok. Can you help me? Don't freaggin test me!!!

So I worked out......... showered, meditated and took the elevator up to my office. I saw my assistant as soon as I stepped out the elevator. She was freaking out because it was 11 am and all these people were looking for me. All these people had left all these messages for me to like call them. Because like they needed me to like pdf them these documents that they like needed for like this really really urgent matter? I nodded and said "well, ok. i'm here now."

I sat at my desk and checked my voicemail. 15 messages. Everyone needed something. Everything was urgent. I deleted all the messages and did some work. Four hours later. No calls. No one checked to see if I was around. Guess what? Those MFKRs actually did the work they needed themselves. Shoot. So, they can work huh? I was learning slowly. Learning how to regulate the craziness that is "the demands of my job." All these time I've been running crazy trying to do everything for everyone because they always need everything "yesterday." And today I finally find out they don't. They're just using me? OK.

Six hours later, some random chick I occassionally work with called and asked me to pdf her some documents that she had in her office already. Her assistant was out and she didn't feel like doing it herself. I told her where to find them. She told me she knew where they were but didn't have the time to get them. Really??? So what the heck do you think I am? You call me across state lines to ask me to pdf it to you across state lines? You're not my boss. You're not my supervisor. You're not on my team and I don't work for you. How dare you? I told her exactly what physically impossible things she could go do to herself and hung up on her. I was setting boundaries. Today was not the day and I was not the one.

Then I worked for another couple of hours and headed home. I checked my mail. The post office had messed up and delivered some other dude's mail to my house. This was the third time in two weeks. I called the post office and they told me they'd take care of it but that they were having some issues? Really? How the frack does that affect me. I need my damn mail so that I can pay my damn bills. How's that for issues? What the frack does it matter that you're having issues. I was pissed. And then I looked down at the dude's mail.....................

And I thought, why can't I make lemonade out of lemons, you know? Why can't I just smile and be happy. After all, I was staring down at a soccer magazine with david beckham's face on it. Now, I love soccer. I watch the world cup and I think apart from basketball, it has the highest concentration of hot men. Hot men with wonderful foreign accents and beautiful chiseled bodies. So I figured I'd just entertain myself with the hotness that is Beckham............ Picture source














Then of course, there was the hotness that is Manchester United player Christiano Ronaldo

Let's just say I'm not so pissed anymore. And then of course while posting this on the blog I came across the illegal hotness that is zac effron....... seriously he's only what? turned 20 this week....... so wrong


You're probably thinking its just a regular day.......why is this chick so angry? Guess what? It's my damn perrogative if i want to be angry? Don't you need to be working anyway? Why are you loitering around on this blog?