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Tuesday, February 12, 2008 @ 9:35 PM
@#%#^@#$^%
For a complain queen like me, it is actually quite a feat that I managed not to breath a single compaint here about my work. But after today, I desperately need to vent or else I'd explode. Really. I'm almost hyperventilating right now because of anger and...you wouldn't want to irate me any further.
Let's start with the most trivial of complaints. Complain #1. The food there sucks. I mean, there's only ONE halal stall there and the makcik pathetically sells the same dishes every single bleeding day. And it doesn't help that she ONLY serves rice with side dishes. I. Do. Not. Eat. Rice (i can see kai scowling. hurrr). Ohwell. All the better lar, I can starve myself while surviving on a mug of milo. Nyeheheh. Complain #2. Office work bores me to death. Staring at the bloody computer screen for eight agonizing hours is pure suicidal I tell you. At least for my eyes la. Each morning I wake up, I'd pray to see colours instead of just pure darkness. Okay, exaggerating but I'm just using some hyperbola (oooh literatureee..) to illustrate my point. Gah. Complain #3. I absolutely HATE wearing office clothes! The heels just kill my feet, I hate how NEAT I have to look all the time, and I loathe how the way the office clothes just makes me look 10 years older! It doesn't help that I already look 5 years older than my real age laaaaaa -___-" So as to refuse being seen in my office clothes, I stashed 2 pairs of formal pants (changed every other day) and a blazer (to just put over whatever top i'm wearing) in my drawer so that I could change out of my youthful and trendy clothings once I reach the office every morning. The only good thing about the office is that I'm given a bigass desk with bigass drawers to stuff all these nonsense things in. Complain #4. The person who sits directly next to me happens to be a gay. Complain #5. His (the gay's) lifelong dream is to undergo a sex exchange and be a full woman by the end of this year. Complain #6. He shares his sex life with me every single motherfuckingbleeding day. Complain #7. He has got the hots for my boyfriend, Mohammad Kailani. Complain #8. He told me his fantasies about having sex with Mohammad Kailani. In full, sordidly revolting, step-by-step details. And that, gave him one tight slap across the face from me. Anyway! One a much, much, muuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuch cheerful note, I passed my riding theory test. Yay me! Labels: numberings |