mnvnjnsn's Diary

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2004-01-14

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Out: 33. In: Old.

Surely there must be a word that describes the flurry of emotions that happen all at once when one is forced to re-do something-- say, a spreadsheet-- eleven times because the higher-ups can't or won't read, and can't and won't make up their mind about things. Well, I know there's a word for the feelings you get the first ten times: frustration. But the eleventh time? The one where all your anger and tension collides with all your hatred and rage after it stops to pick up head pain and panic and abandons all reason and self-esteem?

That feeling should have a name, and not just a docket number at the local courthouse. Anyone up for some sniglets?

So, yeah, this has been a crappy week at work, because apparently I am a terrible employee. And tomorrow I'll be an even older, even more terrible employee. Yippee ha ha whee.

But enough about me, let's talk about the moon! Golly, it sure would be cool if someday we could live on that moon. If only we had a leader (sic) who thought, behaved and even talked like a six year old boy. If we could live on the moon, we'd be able to jump really high!

Twelve billion dollars to gain "a foothold on the moon?" That explains why Bush is decimating all the environmental protection laws. No spotted owls on the moon! Jesus, he couldn't even bother to take a real turkey to the troops on his top-secret surprise field trip to Iraq. How does he plan to feed and house these colonies? Or does he just assume there will be Indians there who we can plunder and slaughter. Ugh. I don't have the capacity to write about how much this administration sucks, so go read this instead. If I were the kind of person who said "word," I certainly would be saying it now.

Everyone in the office has left for a company-wide bowling party, so the office is nearly empty. So I think I'll play a couple more games of Rocket Mania and then head home. I'll see ya when I'm older.

4:03 p.m. - 2004-01-14

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