I Heart This New Widget

**And you will, too. Here's the link if you're interested. And no, this isn't a sponsored post on account of there's not a word count involved. And I've mostly given up on those, too.

It's this:
And its' because of these:

This Funny, Foulmouthing Kid

**Because you guys could sure use a laugh.

A mother was working in the kitchen, listening to her five-year-old son playing with his new electric train in the living room. She heard the train stop & her son saying, "All of you bastards who want off, get the hell off now, 'cause this is the last stop! And all of you bastards who are getting on, get your ass in the train, Cause we're going down the tracks."

The horrified mother went in & told her son, "We don't use that kind of language in this house. Now I want you to go to your room & stay there for TWO HOURS. When you come out, you may play with your train, but I want you to use nice language." Two hours later, the son came out of the bedroom & resumed playing with his train. Soon the train stopped & the mother heard her son say, "All passengers who are disembarking the train, please remember to take all of your belongings with you. We thank you for travelling with us today & hope your trip was a pleasant one."

She hears the little boy continue, "For those of you just boarding, we ask you to store all of your hand luggage under your seat. remember, there is no smoking on the train. We hope you will have a pleasant and relaxing journey with us today." As the mother began to smile, the child added, "For those of you who are pissed off about the TWO HOUR delay, please direct your complaints to the fat bitch in the kitchen."

Who Issues Corrections a Week Later?

**Things like this get to you when you're big on common courtesy. And tomorrow's my birthday. Seriously.

I won 2,000 pesos, but I didn't get it. No, I wasn't imagining things; I swear to God I saw my name next to this soft amount this one time about two weeks ago. That empty accomplishment was short-lived, however, as the powers that be issued a correction, an ERRATUM a week later telling me they made a boo-boo. They issued a correction one week after they issued their congratulations. I didn't win after all. What a mess.

What pisses me off, what gets to me, what makes my shit boil and erupt in bloody splatters is that it took them a week to postpone a correction. No, they weren't doing landscaping. They weren't painting a two-story house. They weren't recovering from an appendectomy. They weren't quarantined for rabies symptoms. They just needed to issue a correction in the same way one would forward spam.

Those seven days in between gave me enough time to plan ahead. See, it's my birthday in a week, at least as of the writing of this post, and I can use the money for an additional two cases of beer plus four sets of the local poor man's brandy. I really don't mind cashing in on other resources to still make this happen on account of I love seeing my friends look like shit.

Maybe tardiness does have its own karma? What comes around goes around? I am a person of habit, bad habit for that matter. And maybe, just maybe, what happened to me is the universe's way of telling me to quit asking for another five minutes of sleep. Or maybe, perhaps possibly, I'm just a sore loser with a tired imagination. Universe my ass.

Related Posts:
When is an Appendix Like a Penis?

This, Too, Shall Pass: Tempering the Resignation Mood

**What's an 11-letter word for Writing? Therapeutic

I know, it's all fun and games and performance bonuses and bottomless pantry coffee until somebody loses an eye. Or the will to login on time because you're complying yourself to exhaustion. And then it becomes so paralyzingly dull. You suddenly don't mind if you're late now, or yesterday, or the day before because the eagerness to suck up has grayed itself out. You don't mind any memos farting in your general direction, not anymore, so you get a pen and imagine an excuse that's just as fabulous as your punctuality. You then remember that you were absent the day before that, but you're approaching that stage where you don't give a shit. Okay, shits, if you really had too much.

Memos? Just bring it on, you tell yourself.

Whiny coworkers and them hissy others saturate an already stressful environment and give it the toxicity of snake venom. Which is the last thing you need, really, seeing as you're already doing technical support for mostly hysterical boobs who give you a. attitude or b. stupid or c. both. But you don't mind that; it's on the fine print of your job contract (expect a lot of dumb ass sons of bitches). What you didn't expect are rotten dicks who signed the same damn contract you did and they're just as complaining as the babies who pay you to do technical support for them.

I know there's a thousand-word bitch fit for what I'm feeling right now, but just writing it away and being all too sexy about it doesn't pay the bills. My kinky night job doing technical support does that all too well. Yes, it gets my panties in a bunch from time to time, but it gets me new panties at the same time, so I'm not going to be that much of a baby about it. I will elect to stay put, keep them Very Satisfied, clean up my ACT, try to keep my seat from being slip, and wait for that next pay raise. Hell, I just got my second raise this early on THIS YEAR, so at least there's something to keep me adhering glued.

Writing that away doesn't make me any less choosy as to my preferred line of work. I'm still looking for job openings for tellers in a sperm bank.

Related Posts
My Resignation Letter (from an earlier Telemarketing gig)
Confessions of a Telemarketer
My Basic Work Philosophies (Part One)