Tick...tick...tick...

Okay, it's official. On the advice of someone dear to me (you know who you are), I've decided that the grief associated with the "prestige" of working at the Front Desk ain't worth the freakin' headache.

My official last day is this Wednesday at 11:15 PM.

Not that I'm counting...

...and not a moment too soon.

I am transferring back to the Banquets Department. It's not glamorous work. Not by a long shot. I move tables and chairs all day. Vacuum the floors. It's meaningless work, but I'm on my own almost the entire shift and no one is looking over my shoulder telling me that I'm doing it wrong.

I actually had one of the girls at the Front Desk correct me as I was restocking the rubberbands this morning. She turned to me and said, "You're doing that wrong."

THEY'RE FUCKING RUBBERBANDS YOU COW!!!!!

Pray tell, HOW am I doing it wrong???

Go on Jenny Craig and lose that GIGANTIC FAT ASS of yours, you stuck up bitch.

Rubber fuckin' bands...

Believe it or not, he's actually gotten BIGGER!!!

"Now eat all of your dead, frozen mice and you'll grow up big and strong!"

I hate my job.

No, seriously...

I FUCKING HATE MY MOTHER FUCKING, FUCKED UP, FUCK YOU UP THE ASS WITH A FUCKING POLE, FUCKING FUCK, FUCK, FUCKING JOB!!!!!!!!!!

If I didn't have bills to pay I would walk.

I probably will.

I'm working in a hyenas den of snarling bitches out to fuck you over because they got their poor little feelings hurt in their last relationship when the guy finally wised up and dumped their sorry ass.

It's like going to work every day in a coven of witches...and they DO NOT want you around!!!

Well that, and "Witches" begins with a "B".

I fucking hate them.

Fucking hive of man-haters.

The SECOND I can find ANYTHING else, I am so FUCKING out of there!!!!!!

I don't care what job it is, as long as it's not there.

You fucking cunts.

I fucking hate you.

Every one of you.

You fucking sit around in your fucking girls club because nobody else WANTS to fucking play with you, you wretched fucking pack of fucking she-wolves.

I actually had one of the girls turn to me yesterday just as I got to work and say, "Don't talk to me."

Fuck you, you miserable fucking cuntbag wretched bitch fuck!

This is the same girl who I got called in to work for last week, at 8 AM, on my day off, because she'd been arrested by the police for being drunk and disorderly, hauled downtown and thrown in the tank.

Crawl back into your fucking miserable shit hole of a life and fucking stay there you fucking cunt!

Let me say it REAL slow, so your feeble minds can grasp what I'm telling you...

FFFFFUUUUUCCCCCKKKKK YYYYYOOOOOUUUUU!!!!!

It's no wonder all you fucking bitches are single! You can't get a man? WHO THE HELL WOULD WANT TO FUCK YOUR SORRY ASS??????????

The most fucked up part of this whole thing? I left a good job tending bar and another working banquets at this hotel to work at the mother fucking front desk.

The Banquets Manager said that she was, and I quote, "losing one of her best people".

I'm seriously considering not even showing up to work for my next shift. I don't fucking care about the god damn consequences anymore.

Either that, or someone is going to fucking die.

First thing tomorrow morning, I'm hitting the pavement and looking for a new job.

Say "hello" to my little friend...

He (or she) is just a BABY!!!

Only 1 month old.

I got him/her today.

Currently accepting suggestions for a name...

Let your fingers do the walking

Has anyone else ever noticed that, when looking through the Yellow Pages, "Pet Stores" comes directly after "Pest Control"?