:( 
FUCK YES. I finished my sketch portfolio yesterday. After 3 months of working mostly of weekends. It feels like passing a goddamn kidney stone. Now comes the boring paperwork. I gotta write a one page essay, which is crap, really, considering I can write three pages on something as trivial as celebrity cocks on a daily basis (if I had the time you know I would).
Speaking of which, I think a celeb penis post is long overdue. I’m gonna check my porn stash and see if there are any worthy “new arrivals”. Hehe.
So if you’ve been through my Facebook lately you’ll find out that I had my birthday March 31st. It was such a weird, awesome day I cannot even begin to describe it. I ate so much cake that I’m still feeling the fucking sugar rush.
I though it would be an ordinary work day, considering that during the four years I’ve been there people either forget it’s my birthday or I take the day off so nobody ever notices. I had gotten used to it by now, even though it stung a little when coworkers all around were wished happy birthday and brought cakes and their cubicles decorated with balloons and string and all that inane childish crap. But deep inside you still feel your inner child goind “I WANNA! I WANNAAAA!”.
Well, two of my coworkers finally told my inner child to shut the fuck up, and treated me to this scrumptious chocolate mound of sweet fuck-awesomeness:
Pay no attention to the weird, unrelated stuff around the cake. Especially the Vaseline. It was all part of the “goodie bag” they gave me. Don’t ask.
Well, the bitches sure made my day, and made me realize that even though we may have all our drama and cat fights and hissy fits and gossip mongering, they really do care about me, at least. Everyone who congratulated me on Facebook also contributed heavily towards my day not being shitty.
It’s weird, I always see myself as an introverted nerd with an unremarkable personality, but when so many people actually take their time to congratulate me and say such nice stuff and wish me luck and tell me they’ll miss me when I take flight, I wonder… Am I really that likeable? It’s kinda hard to take in. I don’t know. Maybe my self esteem needed a kick in the balls. I always thought I was, well, uninteresting. Especially when I lived at home with my parents. I think it was the house. That place just reeks unhappiness. It still makes me uncomfortable when I visit.
Speaking of which, I did have to go there the night of my birthday. Failing to go was reason enough to be disowned, excommunicated and burned at the stake by my family. But it was alright. When I arrived, they had this waiting for me:
OH GOHD WHEN WILL THE CAKE END. SUCH DELICIOUS MOISTNESS CANNOT BE STOPPED.
It was deeeeeelishus (and moist). I think there’s still some left.
I had a rather good time. Which was strange, since birthdays at my family’s house are a notoriously depressing affair. But then I noticed something peculiar. My brother wasn’t there. Could that be the reason I was actually enjoying myself?
He’s not a bad person, but he has a nasty habit of adopting this grating, retarded personality whenever he’s around my dad. He becomes some sort of fucked up jester, joking and laughing at everyone’s expense for the sole purpose of pleasing his king. It’s pathetic, and most of the time, fucking infuriating. He even changes his voice and the way he talks. It seems to be some deep rooted psychological shit. I may not be the shrink here, but that boy is fucked up bigtime.
I was reminded of how severe his issues are when he actually called home to see what we were doing, and when asked to speak to me to congratulate me, we actually held a normal conversation for a few minutes. This event is as rare as seeing a dragon fuck a unicorn. He should be filmed and studied. Freud should be masturbating in his grave.
I’m still a little nervous about how tense these last two weeks at my workplace are going to be. And if they get too tense, I got half a mind to just walk the fuck out. I feel exactly like DS. Waking up every morning and dragging my ass to that place takes every ounce of my willpower, and I am just looking for any reason to just storm the hell out (like a true drama queen) and slam a door or two. The only thing holding me to that job are the paycheck, and whatever respect I have for a few people there. If I was still a contract monkey or a part-timer, I wouldn’t even had thought of giving a two weeks notice. I would have left the same day I gave my resignation. Like a true asshole.
Guess spending all that time with DS is getting some fucked up ideas in my head. But I welcome them. I’m always acting like a fucking conformist. Just taking it and not speaking out loud. Well, I am going to make a pretty loud statement in about a week.
“Oh hi, here’s my two week’s notice. Better start makin’ some calls, I hear it’s a BITCH to manage this section with only one graphic designer. Oh wait! that’s exactly what happened last week when I was left all alone with no help whatsoever! Ahahaha! Ain’t I witty and charming? Yyyyyyyyeah.
By the way when’s that severance check coming?”
