It’s lunchtime and the weather is beautiful. However, I hate working, period! I miss staying at home and not stressing out. I loved sleeping long hours.
I fucking hate being stuck in the middle of processing my shit at work. And after three months at this temp job from hell, I’m NOT happy! I don’t know what I’m doing!
Today, I don’t have the god-damned energy to pretend that I’m even interested in working, even though it’s a blessed opportunity to earn some brainless money to spend to some stupid shit that doesn’t help me.
I’m starting all over with square one here from practically zero funds in my bank and it’s a shame to be un/der employed and underpaid. I’m seriously thinking of skipping work, just like what I can and have done with volunteer work at church.
Just so y’all know, Ate Cheese sent me a text message on my smartphone and called my parent’s landline number both on 03/30/15. Mom called me about her phone call before lunchtime that day. I don’t like Cheese’s politics. It’s the feeling of thugs ganging up.
Speaking of which Saint Frances accepted my LinkedIn invitation. She’s smart and independent. Whereas I’m slow and dependent on others. Duh. That explains why in stuck here. It’s all I know.
I didn’t reply to Cheese because someone from church said that she’s a cracker doodle, too. I could “sense” these things, the disruption in the force, and don’t want to add to her miserable shit or mess with her cracker nutter head.
I intentionally skipped Monday’s choir rehearsal and that’s because Clem dumped the new fat ass alto singer from the Philippines next to me.
As per Das Squirrel on Tuesday evening, we were trained from grade school to bring our materials and be prepared. I anticipated Joy, the blob, not having her shit, on account that Clem is a failure in helping.
That’s why Mom said I shouldn’t be such a prick and help out these stupid old timers, especially Ate Cheese.
Mom said that she’s trying to show Clem that someone, Flynn, is here to help me. Now that bitch has her own Samsung smartphone. Bitch.
But I could sense that it’s not the same when I help the old woman because I’m not her son! Get it? I’d hand her my shit but she’s not excited.
So today at this shit hole of a temp job from hell, Ty says my name properly. Fucking blackish shit! I’m still NOT interested in his shit, period.
But I’m letting his stupid credit cards pile up while I slowly mess up “writing-off” these samples. Thanks to Paulann, I got somewhere decent.
It’s 1224, and it’s time to eat my dried noodles. I’m taking a one hour lunch this time. Fucking shit. My neck is out of place and I put it back.
With lots of hisses,
Evil Kitty
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