I hate you. I hate how you started (for me at TWO FUCKING AM, thankyouverymuch), I hate your middle, and well, your end is TBD. I’m hoping wine and blogging will smooth the edges of the rest of you. Because you were a bitch on wheels today, and I’d like to know what the hell I ever did to you, Wednesday? Seriously, I’ve always enjoyed you as a day. I normally don’t have kiddos, so I celebrate you. I go out dancing, I get all pretty, I put sparkles on my impressive rack, all for YOU Wednesday. You are an asshole.
You repay me by having me serve the longest fucking day in the history of work days ever, I probably got a bladder infection from not going pee for 8 hours, I had a diet Cherry Limeade from Sonic for lunch (does sucking on a lime count as food?), and am having wine for dinner because it was the only thing that sounded good. What can I say? I’m obviously on a health kick. My kidneys and liver may argue otherwise.
It’s the end of the month. Work is crazy the likes of which I haven’t seen since I was the only processor back in 2003, during the sub prime lending explosion on the west coast and was going nuts from the minute I walked into the office until I left. We closed 3 loans last month as an office. This month, twenty two. Forty Eight in our pipeline. Yeah, I’m a little frazzled. Plus, it’s the first week of school for my little darlings, I’ve got a million things in my head non work related, and I have one of my infamous bouts of insomnia taking hold of my night time hours. Awesome.
Can I have a Xanax, vodka, lithium, Drano, straight up?
Oh, we have a new girl at the office, too. She’s been processing loans since I was 10. And she apparently doesn’t like the way we do things. Formal training program? Nope. Figure your shit out. Ask me 400 questions? Really? Do I look like I have time to TRAIN a new person? My eyes are floating because I have to pee, I’m on the phone arguing with an underwriter who wants a credit supplement on a tradeline that’s already on the credit report, my ex is calling to tell me the kids were late to school on their THIRD day, and you are asking me how to order a payoff????!?!?!? Try google. It’s the shit. Thanks. Please move along before I punch you in the face. And if you EVER, I mean EVER, try to physically move me away from the scanner when I’m about to use it, I will go all World Wrestling Federation on your ass and you won’t be able to walk without a limp until you’ve had a hip replacement. Crazy pink haired bitch, line one!
At one point today, I told my boss I was going to quit unless he installs a margarita machine in the kitchen. I’m pretty sure there will be tequila in the office tomorrow. Because he stands to get a bonus on the 5th equivalent to my ANNUAL SALARY. Buy the good shit, please?
I’m just a mess. I haven’t slept, I forgot to put deodorant on today (thank GOD I’m not a smelly person by nature), I’m wrapped up emotionally in these borrowers who are counting on me to fix their crap so they can buy their dream homes. I need to paint my toenails in a way that is so awful, I’ve been wearing cowboy boots all week. I have managed to look cute despite all this. It’s one of those things where I feel like shit, so I have to look hot to balance everything out. Carrie’s having a mental breakdown? Her hair is flat ironed, clothes look stellar, accessories rock and no one can tell she really just wants to put on her pj pants and watch “Sixteen Candles” while she boo hoo’s into a bowl of Ben & Jerry Chunky Monkey.
I just need a freaking break. And I’m feeling very isolated because I don’t have the energy to go out and be social tonight.
Ideally, if it were a perfect world, I’d have a boyfriend, and could call him up, go hang out, cuddle on the sofa and have someone tell me I’m pretty and awesome, and have kick ass boobs. But, at this moment, that fantasy is shot to shit, so I’ll hang with my dog, finish my glass of wine, draw a bubble bath, and probably fall face down into my bed around 9.