Sunday, 11 October 2009

I really need to get fired.....


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.

Anyway.

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

11 comments:

  1. Well, you're not in that bad a shape yet. You can still write about yourself with a certain amount of black humor. That's not bad.

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  2. That sucks. I remember thinking stuff like that at work. It was time for a change. Can you change anything?

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  3. ouch. That is one seriously p***ed off mama.
    And now we're all wondering what the hell it is you do for a living and you know our imagination is probably far worse that the truth . . .

    I used to work in a newsroom where I was the only female manager is a sea of middle-aged bitter men. I never felt like throwing myself down the stairs but I quite fancied flooring one of the bosses with a slick ninja move right in front of everyone and then blaming it on stress.

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  4. So now I'm desperate for you to Dooce / Petite Anglaise yourself. Come on; what do you do? (It's GOT be more interesting than writing snag lists for when you plan to let your flat... Shoot me now).

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  5. What about a nice spot of passive aggression? I find that always cheered me up when I worked in an office (admittedly not for very long, though). You're probably doing that already but you could always up the ante. Other suggestions: continue to revel in bitter twistedness and at least know that you are entertaining me and you have dark sisters all over the internets.
    I don't usually blow my own trumpet, but I shall direct you to a post of mine in which I share your pain..
    http://motherhoodthefinalfrontier.com/2009/03/05/the-blog-gimp/
    M xoxo
    PS still waiting to hear if your mum's toe trampling actually worked. I need a backup plan in case my mature attitude fails.

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  6. I'm with you on this.. every day I think of ways to either kill myself.. or somehow get suspended for several weeks.. but yet keep my job.. I'm still working on it!

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  7. You ladies are just too nice!

    Trouble with the dooce idea is that I have to blog about work for a while before revealing myself and if I did that my blog would no longer be lighthearted.

    I'm waiting until win the lottery. Then I can reveal all without fear.

    P.S Nina, please don't kill yourself. I have nothing decent and black to wear. x

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  8. Think I can readily relate to this post! Been there, done that.
    Award for you over at mine.

    LCM x

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  9. So badly want to know what you do. Go on, tell us in a way that can't be picked up by Google. As Tara says, we can imagine something way worse than reality. We've read the back posts. We're here for the long run. We've dark secrets of our own.

    On the other side of things, I can totally relate to a pain in the arse toddler. Got one too. Stamped my foot so hard in a temper tantrum of my own about their behaviour that I have actually hurt my knee.

    If only I had a paying job, then I could get time off (with sorted day care) and money.

    Knew I was going wrong somewhere.

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  10. I once had a similar sounding job and used to think similar sounding things all the time. I used to toy with walking out in front of slow moving cars that would injure me JUST enough to ensure that I would be in hospital a while and my boss wouldn't be able to gain access to me. When I finally quit he made me work out my notice sitting alone in the basement so I didn't poison the other employees with my 'ideas' (err, like what? Leaving his crock of shit bullying evil domain!? Like nobody else had ever thought of it....).

    Anyway - great blog - I've just been having a read and bloody good laugh/nod. Sorry you feel so shit at the mo though. Hang on in there......

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