My blog is supposed to be light-hearted and humorous, which is why I haven’t said much this weekend. It’s taken me the this long to get over the ultimately shitty week I had at work, and now in the blink of an eye, I’m facing yet another shitty week at work.
It was so bad last week that when I almost lost my balance, on the stairs at work, I found myself thinking,
“Oh no I’m falling.”
which quickly turned into….
“I could hurt myself. How long off work for a broken leg? This could be just what I need!”
When I did regain my balance, my body heaved a huge sigh of regret. I was so disappointed that I almost threw myself down the stairs anyway. When I asked an equally fucked off colleague if we should kill ourselves now or later, she suggested to me that I do something to warrant suspension. This would result in me being paid for not actually having to work and thereby remaining in perfect health to enjoy my time off. Clever clogs!
Other options for getting out of work were ‘doocing’ myself (dooce) by revealing all matter of things on this blog that could get me fired, but would make me a minor celebrity. When I eventually get to tell you guys what I actually do for a living you will understand that this is all perfectly possible. And no, I don’t fuck politicians, although I do have a soft spot for the Australian Prime Minister.
On the child front I seem to have my fingers permanently lodged up my child’s nose or in his mouth trying to retrieve whatever detritus has found its way there, while he beats me about the head. When I reprimand him he laughs in my face and shows no sign of remorse. Very much like being at work really.
He is also making deliberate, calculated, acts of defiance and showing early signs of the tantrum process when I do not yield to him. These include: resisting sleep and throwing things out of his cot, smiling in a challenging way when I tell him the word “No”, and going limp when I try to move him.
It’s OK though, because I’m feeding him processed food, subjecting him to London pollution and forcing him to watch a lot of crap TV. I’m having my revenge and he doesn’t even know it. Ha! Who’s winning now?
We can only hope that my friends do something interesting this week so that I can write about them and not about how miserable, bitter, twisted and fucked up I am. Goodnight. x