less frustrated

This is going to be a good week.

'Bob' is away. No lecherous stares. No stupid questions. No attempts to be funny that only succeed in irritating. No creepy crawly skin. No unsettling feeling that someone is standing right-behind-me; I am oblivious; I prefer headphones and loud music to eavesdropping and office gossip, and therefore am deaf to sleazy silent advances towards my desk, my back. STOP DOING THAT!

Sadly, only a week.

But a glimmer of shiny hope - others have expressed sore toes and contempt for our favourite imbecile, and he may, might, oh please, be moved elsewhere. Anywhere. Anywhere but here.

At this stage, just a rumour.

Still - this is going to be a good week.

I'm never drinking again

frustration

I work with a complete moron. Most people do, but this guy is special. For the purposes of this (and perhaps future) blog entries, I’m going to call him Bob. Bob is a pasty-faced middle-aged man who used to be executive-level management, but clearly couldn’t hack it and had a nervous breakdown. I’m not going to hold that against him, but I suspect he was stupid before the breakdown, not as a result of it.

When he was first placed with us as part of his rehabilitation program, I tried to be nice. Patience is not one of my stronger virtues, but I tried really hard to include him in the team and gave him meaningful projects to help with his self-esteem. His first job was to catalogue our library. Doesn’t sound too difficult. But I SWEAR he sorted the books alphabetically rather than by genre. He also made a database of all the books we have, but there are so many spelling mistakes it’s pretty much useless. Unless you spell the way he does, how are you meant to find anything???

There are myriad other strange and fucked-up things he’s done that just create more work for the rest of us to fix, but what bothers me more than anything is that he’s a royal sleaze too. In the early I’m-going-to-try-to-be-nice days, after he had nagged me constantly for three weeks, I agreed to go on a motorbike ride around the block with him. Strapping on my helmet I distinctly heard him say ‘We better go to your place because my wife’s at home today’. WHAT THE??? Normally I’d laugh off a comment like that, but for some reason I felt really dirty.

My boss found out about it and asked if I wanted to put in a formal complaint. I said no, that I didn’t want to cause any trouble. Just keep an eye on him – especially around the uni interns. Now that people are starting to understand what he’s like, I don’t try to be discreet about what I think of him. I often openly make comments that imply he’s a sleaze. I don’t think he’s caught on yet though. He’s so stupid sometimes I want to rip out all my hair in frustration. Like the other day, he was walking around with a bag of lollies offering them to other staff. I said ‘Take it out to the car park, you dirty old man’. His response: ‘What do you mean dirty? I showered this morning.’

Sigh.

It's just like in that movie...

single white female
what are you doing today?
you can't keep acting this way

the phone's ringing again
i got my ears pierced today
how do i get you to go away

what colour's your hair this week?
blonde, red, brown, or
is it just like mine?

sometimes it's like de ja vu
where have i seen that top before?
looks better on me than it does on you

found you crying on my doorstep
i don't wanna deal with your shit
why don't you just get over it

i already have a shadow
it's more solid than you
single white female
you're not welcome here anymore

OMG There's another one!

Just because there's two of us, why do I have to be the evil one?

you know who you are

on this road
the skid marks scream
black on black
broken dreams like
the glass shattered
on this road
blood spilled like milk
pain is metal pins
forced through bruised and broken flesh
legs that won't move
on their own

revenge is not enough
watch your back
on this road

Written Off

This week has been a complete write-off. I've done nothing productive, just fart-arsed around, surfing the net and trying to make it look like I'm working. Writing umpteen menial jobs on my white board to make it look like I'm busy, and periodically rubbing them off to make it look like I'm working hard and getting heaps done. Usually I like my job but, for some reason, this week I'm just not interested. Maybe because I have so much to do outside of work and the procrastinating and making excuses has left me exhausted from stressing about all the procrastinating and making excuses.

I've become totally addicted to reading other people's blogs, so rather than feel like a total voyeur I'm starting my own. Read it, or don't. I'm going to open a bottle of wine, sit back and care about it some other time.