What did we do to you, Noah?

Christ alive. Dealing the with the wrath of Noah on my drive is the last thing I needed. I mean really, can you let up a little dude?

When I told someone today that I needed to start slacking off a little bit, I was not joking. Those words came back to smack me right in the face tonight. It is incredibly aggrivating to watch someone not doing a damn bit of work while you are busy completing a task, which required an extra five steps of work because of the lack of organization found in some people. This I did not mind. The fact that the jeans have been fucked up for at least a month and no one has fixed them does piss me off. What ever happened to people having a sense of work ethic? Is it honestly that simple to fucking stand there and look retarded while you see others actually doing, oh i don't know, work? The nerve to just stand there putzing around while there are NO customers in the store and there is ONE other person straightening. As I forbid to give a flying fuck tonight, it took me 45 minutes to clean one area of the store, normally about a 10 minute job. Why should I bust my ass when others seem not to do any work? Why should I bust my ass when it obviously doesn't matter anyway? Despite less than a handful of individuals who regularly act this way, I don't mind my job, in fact, I dare say that I like it. I like working hard and fixing problems. I like organizing piles of jeans in the stock room because others either lack the ability or virtue of liking things easily accessible. Most of all, it is more money than the fucking Joe with all the same hassle - 'tis amazing how similar rowdy drunks and shoppers (i.e. mothers) can be. I totally win! AND I don't have to pay for parking. Double points!

Perhaps this utter break down caused by grief and frustration was inevitable. Months of noticing the small things build up into a giant arc that picked a rather appropriate time to take its first sail. Or perhaps it is because I went into work already pissed off, already frustrated, and all ready to call it night so I could back home into my pajamas and do absolutely nothing. Thank God I have a blog to bitch to.

I already bitched today about how much I fucking hate NBC coverage of the Olympics. They do a piss poor job of broadcasting hockey games and need to fucking get a clue. However, watching games on mute solves this problem. It makes falls funnier, skating into the boards hurt more, and a quiet peace knowing that you are not listening to fucking idiots make complete fools of themselves. On a broader level, I often find that I hate how ignorant Americans are; how the fucking higher-ups get off the hook when the blatantly broke the law AND THEN ADMITTED TO IT; and how some people don't have any work ethic. Oh wait, I mentioned that already. My bad. Maybe it just irritates me because I feel as though I have to fucking work for my paycheck and want to earn it. What a concept. Other people should feel that way too, damnit. Then maybe we'd be a little more tolerable of each other and the differences that make us individuals. We'd also have a stronger sense of a collective self - something this country lacks as it can't even put together a national team. ARGHHHHHHHH. *deep breathe*

To make matters even worse - yes they can get worse - I have Mr. and Mrs. Smith in my possession. As much as I fucking, I mean REALLY fucking hate BOTH Brad Pitt AND Angelina Jolie, I'm borrowing it from my boss. Lord help me. I don't know if I'll watch it, but I feel disgusting having it in my purse. Let me just go take a walk outside to clean myself off, Noah won't seem to mind my presense. I'd be like Lt. Dan during the hurricane.

It is February and I just heard thunder. It is possible to hear thunder during a snowstorm, but it's fucking raining like no tomorrow outside. Speaking of tomorrow, it is supposed to be windy and freezing cold. Then you wonder why my allergies are fucked up. Thank you, Michigan. Remind me to kick your fucking ass sometime.

Text messages are a good and they are good at any time of the day or night. Phone calls are a different story. Fucking phone calls after 11pm are not good. Especially when I don't necessarily even like the fuckhead that is calling me and especially when that asshole knows that I sub. What the fuck time does he thinkI have to wake up in the morning in order to accomplish that? In reality, I am not teaching tomorrow because it is the day before a vacation, but what the fuck? He doesn't know that. I am beyond pissed off at his inconsideration and lack of deciency. At least it's not a fucking phone call at 3 in the morning. Those seemed to have stopped after I threatened to call him at 7:30 or 8am - the time when he is blissfully sleeping. The fucker.

All of this reminds me of my favorite quote from Season Four. Spoken by the very wise Tony: "We are going to disagree from time to time and when we do, it's going to be my way." Good Grief, Lord knows what Jack Bauer would do if he felt this much rage inside of him at the moment.

Today's blog entries have been made my possible by the various forms of the word Fuck, ignorance, dilligent work ethic, all of Amy's frustrations, and by viewers like you.