Whenever I take time off to run a race, my boss always asks me, “How was your marathon?” Dude. Get real. Not every damn race I run is a marathon. And also, judging by the fact that I’m limping around like I’ve got a peg leg, I’m guessing my “marathon” DIDN’T GO SO GREAT. This would also be evidenced by the fact that I already told her WHAT HAPPENED DURING THE “MARATHON.” Which solidifies my suspicion that she tunes out whatever I’m saying. How nice.
Which leads me to myself. I am annoying the shit out of myself today. It takes me for-fucking-ever to get anywhere and I make these wincing faces whenever I stand up, which is sorta knee-jerk and unavoidable, and very much something that would get on my nerves if I saw someone else doing it all the time. So, the lady who sends me forwards every day must really hate me right now and I don’t blame her. I guess we’re even.
I somehow got a run in my tights (NOT LEGGINGS) and everyone is pointing it out to me. Yes. I know. And what the fuck do you want me to do about it anyway? Go buy new ones right now, so I can stop answering your dumb questions? I’d happily do this if I could escape this place long enough to get in my car and never come back. As it stands, each time I get up, someone is coming towards me and needs me for “just a minute.” Yeah. Right.
I suppose I should be all happy tree people here to balance out this “negativity” since the New Year just started and whatever. My hair looks good today. And I just realized that the sweater dress I’m wearing is see-through. So there you go.