2002-11-20

I just ordered After Murder Park by the Auteurs, based solely on online reviews - I haven't heard a single track. Here's hoping it don't suck! I'm terrible for impulse buying over the internet. It's just WAY too easy. I can shop. And work. At the same time! If that's wrong, I don't wanna be right. I'm sure I've put the Amazon founders' kids through college by now. Has anyone out there heard this album? Have I wasted my money or what?

Oh, dear God. I just got an e-mail containing the agenda for the Directorate's all-staff meeting tomorrow. Item number three is "Reward and Recognition Presentation" (I'm sure they meant "rewards", but who's picky about these things? Oh yeah�me), and item four is "Holiday Celebration." Well, that pretty much guarantees me a solid hour of torture the likes of which aren't to be found this side of a Latin American dictator's detention camp. "Rewards and Recognition" is an optimistic euphemism for "placating useless fuckwads who think they're special because they do what they're fucking PAID FOR by giving them a useless fuckwad appreciation certificate." And I have intimate knowledge of this process, because, since I am the resident "artist," I have of late been asked to design said appreciation certificates. I once actually had to design one for MYSELF. (I guess that makes me a useless fuckwad. I can live with that.) Like, great job, Robin! Why don't you go design yourself an appreciation certificate? There's a good peon. Fortunately, they seem to have gotten by without my prodigious artistic talent in this latest bout of rewarding and recognizing. Perhaps my attitude in the past has been found lacking in enthusiasm. I'll have to look into that.

So, after spending at least half an hour applauding for people because they've managed to come this far in life without forgetting to breathe or being eaten by predators, I get to indulge in a "celebration." Usually these things involve some sort of asinine game or "get to know ya" activity, suitable for three-year-olds and adults with no dignity or powers of independent thought. Imagine me unleashing a ten-minute torrent of uninterrupted profanity, and you'll have an idea of my expectations for THAT fun event.

You know, someone remarked to me this weekend that I'm a "very angry woman." After I bootfucked him with my steel-toes, I got to thinking. I suppose I can come across as "angry" (can't imagine why); but really�not so much. It's just my schtick. I LIKE to bitch. So if y'all think I'm too angry, you've got your heads up your collective arses and you need to be lobotomized with a rusty chainsaw. But I love you.