There are no bad owners, only bad dogs


Red Rum, Red Rum, Red Rum

I haven't had a new entry in a while because I was afraid that I'd pound the keys of my laptop so hard that they'd crumble into plastic dust and then I'd be stuck without a computer again.

My useless co-"worker" got just what I predicted: a slap on the wrist and the slate wiped clean. You know how? He told our boss that he hadn't done any work in two years because he's depressed. Which gives you an automatic Bubble of Immunity because it's illegal to fire someone who is mentally ill. Syphilitic Pus Eater Cock Face Sputum Bag. Sent me over the edge, that one did. I told our boss that I'm not willing to work in the same department as him because it's just too stressful for me to have to work three times as hard to get his work done, too, and to watch him lie to everyone and get away with it. She told me that she told him that he had to call the Employee Assistance Program and ask for help with his problem (which is that he's a lazy ass). So I stayed home yesterday in order to avoid committing murder or spitting blood from my eyes, which is my superpower. I got my monkey's room painted except for the trim, which is the hardest part due to the latex over oil issue.

This morning I was again called into the inner sanctum and told that he had, in fact, called the Employee Assistance Program. She asked me if that helped. I responded in a reasonable way by saying that of course, it did not. I even spouted something about the prodigal son. I told her again that I didn't want to even be in the same building with someone who craps on me on such a frequent basis. Round and round we went. Unfortunately, she did not document any of his lazy-assness properly so there are some constraints on what she can do, and since he's confused "I'm depressed" with "I like to stay home and masturbate," he is in the magic bubble.

He's going to be sent home to think about his sins for a while. Then he'll be replaced. I'm going to get a promotion, or at least some more money if I stay here. I get all next week off to think about it, during which time I will paint the trim in the monkey's room, re-furnish his room, buy a new couch, and buy myself a new bed with no holes chewed in the mattress (yet).

Part of the reason all of this is soooo insanely remarkably unacceptable is that I've been on an experimental cocktail of anti-depressants for about 11 years. Before that, I was on some other kinds that didn't work so well. I know that different people manage things differently, but for fuck's sake, don't play that victim crap with me. I'm not buying it.

On the plus side: I have a lovely birthday surprise planned for someone who reads this blog and wishes I would tell what the surprise is. Forget it! Why would I tell you about the two hookers and an eight-ball I have lined up?

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