i'd choke april with my bare hands

i had the worst april of my pathetic life. and by all indications, it won't get any better anytime soon.

most of it had to do with work. and pressure. then stress. the combination of the three never fails to upset my stomach.

for the past four weeks i was frantic. i was having panic attacks. well, sort of panic attacks. i was desperately cramming three months worth of work into these four short weeks. i was working even on weekends. and if you thought working on a monday was bad, try working on a sunday. that'll be just super!

only time i get to rest is when i sleep, or go for a leak, or smoke, or blog. i usually blog to relieve stress. either that or i go relentlessly punch holes in the wall and violently curse at my desk lamp. fuck you desk lamp! okay, i'm lying. i don't have a desk lamp. i curse at my tape dispenser. fuck you tape dispenser! fuck you! okay, that felt better. jesus fuckin' christ, i'm pathetic.

but what do you do when you run out of walls to punch holes in? you rant.

:: people who can't understand what "call back after 15 minutes" means -- it seems that i can't convince people, even over the phone, that what i do is important. everybody takes a break. i get left behind because i'm working. the phone rings. i answer it. caller looks for someone not there at the moment. i politely ask him to call back after fifteen minutes.

that should've been enough, right? wrong.

forty seconds later, the same guy calls back and asks for the same person. "look, dude, i'm not lying here. they've all gone for a 15-minute break. just hang up, wait for 15 minutes, then call back. or i can take a message and have him call you back. okay? okay." wrong again.

two minutes later, phone rings, same guy. "fuck! dude, do you know why the fuck am i talking to you right now? that's because i sacrificed my 15-minute break to get more work done. and i'm not getting anything done with you calling three times for the past three minutes. what the fuck is your problem? is it that important? are you lonely? are you a loser? attention whore? call back in 15 minutes, wackjob!!! hang up right now or this phone will be shoved up your ass faster than you can hit that redial button!!!

15 minutes later.

hey steven, your mother called. yeah, three times.

:: people who are "high on life" -- somebody had elmo for breakfast. yeah, you see them everywhere. they have this big goofy grin on their faces. you ask them what they're on, and they answer, "hey man, i'm high on life!" now what the fuck is that???

"high on life? please bore us with your spiritual mambo jumbo oh enlightened one."

"dude being high on life means everything's clearer. everything's in perspective. everything's blah blah blah"

"okay. i get the point. please shut up and turn the other way."

"but it's sooo much better when you're high on life. everything's sooo much clearer, everything's blah blah blah..."

"okay, that's it. shut up. or what'll be clearer to you is the back of my hand repetitively slapping you across your eyes. get it? good. and you still don't shut up, i'll go bash your head on the pavement for about forty times. by then, you'll be higher than life. you'll be beyond life. you'll be in the afterlife. and you can't get any higher than that, believe me."

:: my fucking shoelaces that keeps getting undone -- okay, i can't, for the friggin' life of me, get my attention straight. like for instance, it really takes me a long time to get dressed in the morning because i can't get focused. eventually i wind up staring at the wall for a good fifteen minutes. yeah, the wall with the holes. then i have to do my shoelaces. since i have this homer simpson belly sticking out, i get so fucking frustrated just bending over and tying them. *frustrated!!!* so i tie them real fucking well, like i triple knot them and shit. but immediately after every time i have lunch, the fucking shoelaces magically come undone. what the fuck is wrong with you shoe??? why do you do this to me? stay tied motherfucker! stay tied!!!

now i don't know what magical force is behind this annoying mystery of life, but i'm going to get to the bottom of this.

do i have a jedi knight office mate that just likes to see me scream obscenities at my shoes that's why he unties them by using "the force?"

do we have ghosts in the office that are so fucking playful, they'd like seeing fat guys bend over and struggle to triple knot stubborn shoelaces? is it casper? well if it's casper, then he's not that friendly after all isn't he? no wonder the dude's fucking dead!

i'm going to get to the bottom of this.

i'm out.