Still in a tiny conference room with 2 other women from work breathing noxious HVAC fire fumes for 9.5 hours a day. Our menstrual periods have synced and we laugh hysterically at the stupidest dumbass memes that Jewish Guy emails us from another conference room. Get this, Jesus Guy unplugged his puter from the conference room table and brought it back to the scene of the fire where he is now procuring. He says the neighborhood is better now that the riffraff has moved out. He burst into our room once to defend Trump about something but I was so high off the Sharpie I'd just used to write down a purchase order number with that I couldn't argue with him. I rarely argue with him anyway, I just stare back at him with my lip curled and my brow furrowed.
Jesus Christ, tomorrow's Monday. I bought a little "Daily Gratitude" journal at the beginning of the year, but have been super lax about being grateful in it. I also have a Dreamworks Trolls journal which I have been far more prolific about being a crumudgeony misanthrope in.
I had just finished 500 purchase orders for toilets Friday when I reached for Trolls journal to document my hacking HVAC fire cough in. Suddenly, The Man entered the room and said we could all help clean the shit out her new office if we felt like it. Betty's eyes flashed dangerously and I could feel my lip begin to curl. Even cheerful Liz's aura blackened and filled the room with bad vibes. The Man either didn't notice or didn't care because she went on instructing us as to what we could do with the rolls of plans and giant binders stacked in her office.
I think Betty began furiously typing to the Union the moment the door slammed and Liz got on the phone with OSHA. I grabbed Trolls journal and began penning my outrage. Janet fucking ***** is a BITCH, I wrote feverishly, the pink Troll hair on the tip of my Troll pen flailing wildly in the air. The door opened again as I was describing the orifice The Man could put her binders in.
..."Forgot to wish you guys a good weekend!"
I pulled the zebra-print bandana I was trying to tame my mullet with from off my head and wrapped it over my eyes. "Betty, shoot me in the head" I told my coworker. She laughed so hard Liz and I joined in and drained the last of the oxygen out of the room. I asked them if they had seen the Spaceballs scene where royalty cracked opened canned air and sniffed it. That's what Janet's doing in her office right now, I explained.
We laughed some more until we begrudgingly left the room to haul plans and binders down into Ground Zero where Jesus Guy was sitting. I told him he was going to grow a third eye like that fish on the Simpson's sitting down here, and he told me that I was going to Hell like usual, and then we parted ways.
Back at it again tomorrow.