Gentlefolk, it is said that sometimes you eat the bear, sometimes the bear eats you. I can confidently say that yesterday, the bear attacked me, kidnapped me, took me back to his place, sexually assaulted me, then passed me along to his bear friends so that they could have a go, before cooking, eating and shitting me out.
Yesterday was bad. And not the regular run-of-the mill bad either, it was horrendous. I've had a few bad days at the office and out of it before, but yesterday is defintely on my top five list of shit days at the office.
As bad days usually go, it started out pretty normal. Good almost. Apart from the heart stopping horniness from yesterday morning, everything was fine. And sure enough, the minute I saw the bank building, away went the need to bleed the weed. I got to the office on time, sorted myself out and fucked off to the hotel. Infact yesterday morning/afternoon was so mind numbingly bored that I fell asleep in my chair at the hotel. I already had plans to tell you good people about that. And the shit bastard who was laughing at me. I think he might have even taken pictures. Gentlefolk, yesterday's P.M. edition would have been hilarious. But no, it all got fucked up by the following factors:
1. My boss: the urge to get to the office and pee in his fuel tank is strong within me gentlefolk. I want to replace the gas for his air conditioning with carbon monoxide. If I could get my hands on some dish washing liquid, I would slip it into his morning tea. I hate the bastard. And rightly so. What in the name of all that is good would he fix a 'lecture' or 'training' by 6.30pm? Its irrational. We all had a busy day at the office (except me of course) and by 6.00 its time to mosy on home. But not, this fool thought it wise to keep us all there till about 8.00pm, listening to some asshole who was supposed to tutor us about life... Which brings me to the 2nd recipient of my aggression today
2. The speaker: gentlefolk, those who know me know that I'm not the easiest person to convince about most things. I prefer to form my own opinons and conclusions, and though mostly wrong, I can beat on my chest and say "I know I fucked up, but I fucked up without help from anyone!" Thus motivational speakers or life councellors or career mentors are not in my add to facebook friend list. Generally, I don't have a problem with them. Or people who indulge in their teachings. Whatever floats you boat is cool with me. But when I'm forced to listen to one, then shit gets ugly. How the hell does he know what I want out of life and how to achieve it? Dammit, that's my business! You don't see me walking up to hin and saying "so, if you bend her over is this position, and you work the backstroke in a 1, 1, 1 2, 1, 1, 1 2 sequence, you'll definitely rock her world"!
Again, I don't care who listens to or likes this guy, I don't. I wanted to go home. Just because he speaks well, albeit with an obviously affected accent, does that mean he has the solution to all my problems? I too am eloquent, but you don't hear me giving out advice on everything from work to proper masturbational etiquette?! "Oh no sir, when engaging in hand to gland combat, its best not to look directly at your member"?!
This asshole spoke for close to 2 hours and I didn't hear a damn thing. When he was done, he asked if there were any questions. I was tempted to say "ah, yes sir, I have one. What I'd like to know, you bastard, is now that the staff bus has left, and I didn't drive and its 8.30pm, exactly how the fuck am I supposed to get home today? Thank you sir." But the icing on the cake gentlefolk is that he then announced that his cd's usually go for ten grand per cd, but he is giving them to one lucky person who can answer a question. I was like what the fuck?! Ten large?! Gentlefolk, in my personal opinion, the greatest cd ever made was Biggie's Life After Death album, and that goes for 2grand, tops. So no sir, I do not want your cd. What I would like however is to bend you over and ram that projector up your backside, just to see if it can still display on the wall via your mouth.
Needless to say people, I got home extremely late last night, which was the reason for the incredibly short P.M. edition. And I would have written it on the bus ride home, which bring us to me next target
3. MTN: the shittiest network. I believe their slogan is 'Everywhere, we blow'. This frigging phone which I basically sold my birthright for and the blackberry service which I'm currently paying for with the sale of my little brother into slavery, the both of them had no internet connection. I couldn't do shit with them. So MTN workers beware, I will soon be going Sept 11th on your asses. Jihad Womilee style.
Finally good people, I think I over reacted last night when I said some people should learn to shut the fuck up. I met someone I know on the bus, and she went on and on about her shit ex. This makes me feel sorry for anyone who has been in the company of any of my exs after we parted company. But baby, don't worry you'll find a good man soon. Till you do of course, why don't you let me help you out with that back stiffness.
Before I leave, I want to say a couple more things. First, one of my readers has complained that I don't read my post comments. Baby (please be female) I do read them and I appreciate them. I'd reply, but I think I'm shy.
Secondly, thank you all for your patience. My advisors and I are most grateful.
I am Womilee.