you know what?

We employ competent editorial staff for a reason.
That reason is, so you don't send amendments to your story ten minutes before the finished page is to be sent to the printer just because you've decided to remove a few pointless adjectives.

Organisation Fatigue

I don't want to have to organise another bloody thing. I don't want to send emails, invites, do headcounts, compare costs, remind people, shooper people, harrass people, make decisions in the absence of other people's decisions...

I just want to be told WHEN and WHERE and for once, just get to JUST TURN UP, like EVERYBODY ELSE does.

WHO THE FUCK ATE MY HOT POCKET?!?

I can't BELIEVE I have to wear the silly glasses.

i hate you, inland revenue

I hate you for thinking my request for information meant I was self-employed.
I hate you for sending self-assessment forms to my former address in Whitechapel.
I hate you for sending information requests to my current address and being told I have a job, thanks, I am not self-employed.
I hate you for giving me two reference numbers, which I think is the root of all of this evil.
I hate you for telling me I need all these forms when they're not actually the forms I need.
I hate you for your snotty call centres who get upset when I say "fucking hell" after being told different answers to the same questions. How dare YOU get offended!!
I hate you for sending me a £1600+ tax bill.
I hate you for making me fill out all these forms with information YOU have but I do NOT have that YOU will not give me.
I hate you for taking more money than you were supposed to before I had a national insurance number.

In general, you suck my ass, you fucking fucks.

i want my BIKE!

I tried to participate in the bike4work plan last fall, but apparently in order to participate you have about ten minutes to decide whether you want to meet all the conditions and there's this whole red tape rigamarole to go through etc etc so I didn't get a bike.
When the plan was offered again, I got on board. I chose how much I wanted to spend and calculated the amounts and figured it was cheaper than a gym membership so I cancelled my gym membership and waited for the letter to arrive that would allow me to go down to Halfords and pick up my bike.
It hasn't arrived.
Today I called to find out where the hell my letter is because I have to pay starting this month and I wanted to actually get the damn bike before the month is over because who wants to pay for something they don't have?
Well, they never received some stupid form I'm sure I sent back if I received, assuming I received it, so no bike for me.
Sod this for a bag of fish. I'm going down to Brick Lane market and buying a hot one.

good lord

Waterloo is so dumb she can't turn her computer on without calling IT.
FACT.
This is happening RIGHT NOW.
And she once again had to ask whether or not she was using a Mac or a PC.
How does one not know? Seriously. Does she think someone sneaks in here every night and changes the CPUs around?

Everything.

Right now, every single bloody thing in the world.

IF you are going to stink up the bathroom that you share with your co-workers, could you PLEASE, for the love of all that is pure and fresh-smelling, hit the switch for the FAN on your way out the door?
Maybe you like the smell of your shit, but I don't.

Shut up, biznatch.

My sister, who is alternately known as Princess, Shmoopsie, and Magpie has just returned from a lovely island vacation in St. Maarten. One might ask how a 25 year old who makes no money might afford such a thing, and the answer is simple: my parents. While I was stuck in Chicago teaching children well and showing them all the beauty they have inside, Princess was sunning herself and throwing back umbrella drinks with Mums and Dads.

Princess returns last night, at 11:45 PM mind you, making all sorts of bullshit noise while I'm in my third cycle of REM sleep. I walk out of my room, and in the darkness of our apartment I can already see her sunkissed glow. Her only remark was, "Wow, it's dry in here. This is going to kill my tan." Really? Seriously? You're going to complain that you just had a vacation that someone else paid for. Hi, welcome back. How are you? Me? I'm fine, thanks. I'll tell you what's killing me: it's mid-March and we have storm watch until midnight and my skin is the color of a bottle of fucking Elmer's Glue. To that I say, "Shut up, biznatch."

I'm already stressed, don't make me impatient, too

I asked when I came in if I could leave on time today. They said yeah.
It's Time and I'm not going anywhere, so I call the salon to reschedule.
I sit in a call queue for half an hour and get disconnected when it's my turn.
I call back and discover yes I can have an appointment for Wednesday, but it's with a senior director and will be £61. Which would be great if I wasn't just getting a fucking maintenance trim.

Moon Meets Stick, So What?

What do they want?

The Moon on a stick!

When do they want it?

Yesterday!

I don't care if they own this company, my ass included. They're still idiots.

godDAMN i work with a bunch of fucking whiny bitches.

yes, i understand you would prefer to get paid just to sit on your ass and talk shit all day and drink free coffee and go out for smoke breaks. wouldn't we all? but guess what? not gonna happen. which you should've all realized now since most of you are in your fucking 30s. so that's right, i AM going to hand you some more fucking work to do on the request of the customer whose business here means you still have a fucking job that you are overpaid for.

blah

GARDEN VEGETABLE CREAM CHEESE.






UGH.


gross, dude.

thanks for returning the favor

so let's say a few months ago you went to see sigur ros. and one of your coworkers and her boyfriend also went to see sigur ros. and the next day you and your coworker talked about how amazing the show was.
and then let's say about a week ago you found out that sigur ros are coming back (unexpectedly since they don't have a new record out yet and they rarely tour) to play a really nice venue but the presale date hasn't been finalized yet. so you share this information with your coworker and she gets excited and tells her boyfriend who also gets excited.
and then you go online this afternoon and see that the presale was this morning and is all sold out, really sweet seats, center section rows B-Z. and you ask your coworker if she knew the presale was this morning? and she says oh yeah, her boyfriend called her this morning after he got tickets because he had been checking every day since you had told her that they were coming back to town. and you say oh, i had no idea the presale was this morning, because now it's all sold out. thanks for letting me know, bitch.

!

QUIT FUCKING SNAPPING AT ME!