Monday

Crummy day. Everyone and everything rubbed me the wrong way.

Thoughts I had today while at work:

Fuck you.
I don't give a fuck.
Fuck you if you can't take a joke.
I'm quitting.
March in his office and tell him you're quitting.
March in his office, tell him you hate this fucking place, then walk out.
March in his office, tell him you can't take it anymore, that you hate this place, that he is incompotent, and that you quit.
I wonder if she tries to look constipated.
I wonder if she tries to intimidate people by looking constipated.
I wonder if smiling would kill her.
I wonder if she has angry sex all the time.
DUmb ass.
Cluster fuck.
I bet she's an alcoholic.
If you ask me one more time to work my day off, or if I'll work a double shift, I'm going to scream in your face.
You're full of shit.
Please get away from my desk.
Please get off of my phone.
Doesn't anyone else know how to change the fucking fax cartridge.
She smells like cheap perfume over body odor.
Do these fucking people think I have ESP?
Fuck you you fucking car salesman.

(i feel better now)