Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Zen and the Art of the F Word
Contains language unsuitable for most people.
(for further reference, see:
Pole dancers: http://gothamist.com/2007/12/10/four_women_pole.php
Pole HOGGERS: http://gothamist.com/2008/04/03/putting_pole_ho.php)
Bear with me here. This may be rough. The day did not start off well. First of all, I've got the wrong panties on. You think this is no big deal? Try walking around all day long with panties that only go half-way up your butt crack. These are spanking panties, not regular panties! Okay, I know what you're probably going to say -- don't get your panties all in a bunch! Har de har har.
And, yes, I was late leaving the house (part of reason I rushed the panty selection). I was six minutes late. So I'll be punished. F*** it; I need to be!
I really feel like cursing. No, my anger management "program" is NOT going well.
F*** you all, loudmouth bitches in Starbucks! Why are you talking so loud -- to cover up your inherent obtuseness? You're loud and boring as sticks! Shut up! And you, especially-loud-and-self-centered lady with the constantly screaming toddler -- could you stick a sock in her, too, before it's too late and she ends up like you?
F*** you, too, pole-leaning bitch on the R-train. The train's crowded. People gotta grab the poles. Kindly move your stinky polyester suit the f*** away from my hand. Oh, you won't move? You're too IMPORTANT? You were here first? How about a knuckle poking right into your back, then? You like that? Still won't move? I'll move then, and shove my bag up against you so I don't have to touch your arrogant skeeviness. Ugh, you make me ill, standing there with your eyes closed pretending to sleep. Another selfish bitch. New York really needs more of your kind!
And f*** you, too, my condescending bitch of a boss. Because of your perpetual inability to make a timely decision (but persist in meddling in minutiae), my work is harder than ever. What ever happened to that assistant I was going to get? Or that intern? Vanished -- poof! -- into the ether? No money in the budget? I don't get the promotion, someone is hired at twice my salary, but suddenly I have more work to do, more decisions to make, but oddly, still no authority! F***! F***! F***!
Ahh. Okay. I feel better now. A little, anyway. Thank you for letting me rant.
Maybe I need to get tied up, gagged and beaten for an hour or two. Hello? Anyone? Okay. Not just ANYONE.