Apparently, Something Happened In New Orleans

So I have now officially decided that I no longer give "two shits" about my day job anymore. Previously, I just didn't "give a shit," but upgraded to "two shits" just recently. Up until now, I lived under the impression that I was pretty much untouchable and un-reamable here at work because A: I'm pretty good at what I do, and because B: other employees seem to think that if anyone will run amuck with a weed whacker, it will be me.

I am considered somewhat of being the nice, quiet, unassuming guy at the office. You know, the guy you think is so polite and soft-spoken, yet you secretly wonder if he has any leather straps connected to nipple piercings under his buttoned-up shirt. The guy that you imagine just might be a perverted ass freak with numerous butt plugs in the bedroom. The guy who might just one day line you up in the sights of a high-caliber weapon and whisper "I'm doing this for Jodie Foster," right before pulling the trigger. You know what I'm talking about. That's me.

In actuality, guys like me are just as mundane and ordinary as you think we are. I mean, I am a perveted ass freak, but what guy isn't?

But I digress.

So I come in happy as usual on a Monday morning to find an email from Big Boss Man sent to everyone in my department illustrating in fine detail a particular fuckup on my end, which could have been easily corrected if our clients weren't, in general, a bunch of drooling retarded troglodytes. But hold on to your flannel panties, there's more! Big Boss Man not only USES MY NAME in this email, but also takes this as an opportunity to list every grievance he has with my entire department in general. I become the inspiration to a tirade against incompetence, basically.

So there we have it, dear reader. Humiliate me once, shame on you. Humiliate me twice, well, I take a hot steamy dump on your desk and leave my pubic hair clippings on your keyboard.

Maybe I shouldn't be writing about this on a blog, considering the multitudes of readers that read this on a daily basis. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Heh, heh, heh, whoo! Oh wait, there's more...BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Okay, so I am movie boy. I am artiste. I do not need a normal job, because my aspirations are higher...I am creating CINEMA. Money and material goods are not important.

Give me a fucking break. I would give up filmmaking in a second for a good Reuben sandwich, if someone asked me to.