I have anger management issues.

Today I am wearing black leggings under a skirt because my legs are cold, and two people already made fun of me. First of all, fuck all y'all, leggings are back. Even if they shouldn't be, shut up, it is frigid as a WASPy bitch in here, and do you really want to see my hairy, pale-assed, spider-veined legs?! No, I don't think so. So shut up, or I will show them to you.

Furthermore, the people who made fun of me are a) a fatass, and b) a dreadlocked freak, respectively. I don't think either of them really cares what other people think about how they look. It's the hypocrisy that really pisses me off.

Secondly, the florist keeps sending us lilies for the office and I'm fucking allergic. I will probably look like a huge asshole for doing this, but I'm asking them not to send 'em anymore. My eyes turn rabid red just from being around them and now Dreadlocks thinks I'm perpetually stoned.

Thirdly, they won't get me any blinds and the sun comes in and hits me upside the head at three o'clock every day, so no matter where you are, at three o'clock Pacific Standard Time, know that I am pissed. Am getting wrinkles on my left cheek but not my right, and I have a family history of melanoma. NICE. You know, if this was happening to one of the guys in the offices upstairs, they would cry like the widdle baby-bottomed suits they are until someone came over from Corporate and gave them an ergonomic assessment. They can suck my administrative butthole (that smells like someone else's ass, since they won't get me a new chair, either.)

Fuck this fucking inconsiderate workplace bullshit. I'm out of here as soon as freaking possible. Either that, or all the rage I've been suppressing for two years already is going to boil over in the form of conspicuous donut consumption. And I don't even like donuts. Real scary threat, I know.

You know you hate your job when you would actually welcome getting jury duty.