balsamandash: (there's a monster in my head)
Dear co-worker:
I do get that being put somewhere that you don't really know what to do is problematic, but for fuck's sake, that doesn't mean you just go off and do something you KNOW it isn't time to start yet instead of what NEEDS to be done. And you know what it REALLY does not mean? That it's time to fuck off and talk to random people instead of DOING YOUR JOB.
No really, fuck you. We were already getting one less person in the area than we normally do and you? Only really worked for two hours. So it's like we were down two people for most of the night.

Dear other co-worker:
Yes, co-worker's behavior is stressful. But you take 30-40 minutes on your 15-minute break and 90 or more on your 60-minute lunch hour -- preventing me from going til you get back, might I add -- you have no right to talk about anyone else's behavior.

Dear me:
Wow, you're a dumbfuck. Please check your bus pass' expire date twice next time you think it's weirdly late in the month. Because having to run all the way back across the giant street and parking lot to get bus fare was not fun.

Dear brain:
What is with the sudden desire to own and wear a pair of heels????? No, I really don't get it. What. What the fuck.

Dear oreos:
YOU ARE MINE.
(Also what the hell, they make pumpkin spice oreos, I am intrigued and slightly disturbed.)

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The Marquis de All The Knives

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