I was hoping that this week was a representation of the play. Alas, it was not.
I was prepared to wax poetic about the injustices suffered by being surrounded by those with off the chart IQs. Instead I learned that ignorance is truly bliss. Next life I will return ignorant. The synapses that I have wasted attempting to be politically correct have been painful. Nay, excruciating. Charlie, I understand now.
If I have to repeat a week like this one ever again, then friends, I need to make reservations for a padded cell.
Thank the heavens the weekend is a few hours away. Any longer and I would not have made it.
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5 comments:
Friday starts the weekend. Everyone into the pool, then it's ping pong and bananas foster till the cows come home.
And who let those cows out anyway? Probably the same assbag with the dogs.
For a short week, this seemed like a really long one.
Hey look at the bright side,,,,,you could be pregnant!!!!
Wicked, you can hang on. Like you said in a few short hours the weekend!!!!!!
We are pulling for you!
Thank you for the support gentlemen. I so appreciate it.
I feel your pain... But really, can't anyone see just how wrong this situation is? (Sorry, this comment isn't pithy or humourous or even entertaining.)
Wishing away time?
Waiting for entire blocks of our lives to pass, so we can get to 'better' blocks?
Though I guess I'd want to ask 'How did we get here?!?', my real question is 'How many of us are there out there that feel this way?' You hear about statistics, studies that say 'Women in the UK spend two and a half years of their lives doing their hair', or the total time spent in traffic over a lifetime, or asleep, or watching televisions... But really, how much time does the average person in your universe spend wishing their eixistence away, longing for their 'free time'?
Maybe that's my contribution to help you pass the remaining hours today until that horn blasts and weekend passes are handed out: how many people do you know who are 'content' with their day-to-day and don't wish away their worktime?
We now return you to your regularly-scheduled coping.
(these are not tears of sadness, I swear!)
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