A documentary on me.

It’s late, I can’t sleep and I’m flicking through the tv channels constantly.
Why the fuck is there a documentary on will.i.am?!
I honestly don’t get it.
He does fuck all apart from sing mismatched lyrics in to a mic that adds a zingy, robotic pitch to his voice.
I work 5 days a week without a break for pittance! Where the fuck is my documentary?!
I’m pretty sure, if I could afford a personal trainer, I too would look good in red leather.
It sickens me that we live in a world were people get paid more for a talent they have, by complete and utter luck than those who go out and work their asses off to learn a skill.
The jokes on us.

Beat them, burn it and bike it.

I haven’t written anything in almost two weeks. That in no way implies things have mellowed and I’m loving my job.
It hasn’t. I don’t.
But, I have bought an exercise bike! I’ve been pounding on the thing now every evening for an hour.
It helps me release my frustrations. I don’t have to worry about not getting home to get to the gym on time, I have it in my spare room. All and all the best thing I’ve bought in a while.
Plus, it’ll really help me get in shape for the various weddings I have coming up.
Instead of locking myself in the office and taking my frustrations out on the poor furniture, I just bottle up it and take it home and give the bike what for.
I would recommend for anyone who is feeling in anyway like myself to get a bike.

I’m on the highway to hell

My title is misleading and furthermore incorrect.
I haven’t just surpassed the high way and ended up in hell, I’ve been here for 6 year.
Fuck I hate my job.
At least I have a job. Right.
It’s a certain kind of person that uses the above expression.
They have an office job. I use the term office loosely. But any job that allows you to sit on your hole for 8 hours browsing the World Wide Web on company time, is not a job. Rather, a place you have to be for 37 hours a week.
I once had a school teacher, I’ll call him Mr S. Just incase for some unbeknown reason he stumbles across my blog while on his daily internet trawl.
He was a lovely man, theatrical, kind and funny. However, for the 5 solid years he taught me, I have to say I learnt nothing from him.
He had a computer at the side of his desk, that faced away from the students but allowed him a Panoramic view of the room.
He internet shopped a lot.
Infact, he did nothing but.
One particularly rainy Tuesday, I remember as we had a triple class on a Tuesday. (That’s 1 hour and 30 uninterrupted glorious minutes.)

This Tuesday anyway, we all gathered in, plopped down in the usual seats and took our books out.
“Aha, today I have a treat for you all.” He chirped over his enormous desk. It was really huge.
“I have managed to locate and track down a fine piece of music I would like you all to hear.”

It was songs based on Moses freeing the slaves.
One solid hour and thirty fucking minutes of the god damn thing.
It was coming up to Xmas and he had a lot of presents to buy.
But Jesus wept!! I don’t think I will ever forget that music, that day, that hour and a half, ever!
Apparently, after a lunch time discussion around the lockers. It turned out we weren’t the only class to be have that torture bestowed upon us.
He must have had a shit load of
presents to buy.

I often think about him, especially with the new candy crush addiction. God love his pupils

But, yes this man would say, at least you have a job.

It’s just a pity it’s not his.

An eagle amongst pigeons.

I once worked with a man who described himself as an “eagle amongst pigeons.”
This man then went on to get fired.
As we climb the corporate ladder, we each make the same promise to ourselves. I will not treat anyone the way that bastard treated me.
I can honestly say, I haven’t and never would.
I was subjected to two years of
Complete and utter hell.
Imagine having to work with the stupidest person you know, now make them your manager.
It was a particularly busy Saturday morning. My job is very physical, and has time constraints. It requires a staff body that are hands on, efficient and quick.
However, my ex manager, being the “good guy” that he is decided one Saturday morning that he needed a new outfit for his pending night out.
Ditching me for 3 hours while he browsed the city centre for his fashionable checked shirt and super dry jacket. (On paid company time may I add)
I felt like I had done ten round with mike Tyson when he finally arrived back.
Sore, tired and starved as I was yet to eat despite being awake for 6 hours at that point.
I decided to take my break.
As a member of the management team we are always on call. Despite not getting paid for our breaks!
We are not allowed to leave the premises, piss, burp or fart without notifying the appropriate persons and setting a contingency plan in place.
My ass was literally hoovering over the seat in the canteen, when mr fucking eagle arrives to the conclusion that he too shall have his break.
Because, you know 3 hours strolling around a city centre wouldn’t have allowed time to eat at one of the many nice restaurants or numerous fast food outlets.
To top it all off, he left an hour early that day and forgot to bring home his shite new clothes. They sat in the office for a further two weeks. The temptation to take a shit all over them almost defeated me at one stage.

The last I heard he was working in a call centre. No better place for the bastard.

My dog ate my homework.

Being a manager I hear some shite when picking up sick calls.
Where I am currently placed takes the biscuit.
So, much so I’ve compiled a list of the excuses I have heard.
These are all true. Hand on heart.
I bent down to lift my niece and hurt my back.
I don’t feel well, and I can’t get a doctors appointment until next week. Therefore I won’t be in until I see the doctor.
I’m having tunnel vision today.
( On New Year’s Day) I think I got food poisoning as I vomited up the lining of my stomach last night. I need to go to a+e today.
I have swine flu.
My cousin is in hospital, while checked in at a party on Facebook.
I can’t come in today as it would be too much for me. (What does that even mean)
My coping mechanisms aren’t working.
Vomiting and diarrhoea, I get this phone call from at least one person once a month. Sadly for them, mentioning diarrhoea doesn’t make me uncomfortable and I happily grill them on it.
Food poisoning. Everyone pulls this one as well.
I bumped my head looking for my house keys and I’m dizzy.
Locked in the house.
Locked out of the house.
Delayed flights home, we can check these things you know.
I am on the run as I received a threat. This actually happened last week. Did you ever in all your life hear such Shiite?! Food poisoning would be more believable.
I didn’t know I was working tonight. Did you not? The Rota has been up for 3 weeks. Coincidently, you also tried to swap this shift with no success.
It’s my birthday and I don’t think I should work. (This person then went on to quit by no showing)
I have sun stroke.
I had a last minute lecture change. ( I went to university, this things just don’t happen last minute)
I dyed my hair and it’s went a funny colour, I need to get it fixed.
My uniform isn’t dry.
My car has broke down.
The washing machine has flooded the kitchen.
I think I had my drink spiked last night, I have been throwing up all day.
My apartment was broke in to, again while checked in at a party on Facebook.
My car window was smashed and I’m waiting on it getting repaired. This went on for 3 days.

This is all I can recall at the minute. There are plenty more.

I’ve heard about “hard work”

Facebook seems to be the new platform in which we relay our lives.
Checking in to the toilet, bars, restaurants, our cosy beds. I once had a facebook friend who checked in at their body, when her and her partner were having sex. How gross!

I am bombarded with the, omg it’s Friday, thank fuck it’s Friday, Jayus Friday you’re looking well status’ every week.
It makes me want to reach in to my phone, grab the poster and bitch slap them sideways.
What is Friday?? Oh Friday? Yeah Fridays the day I go to work, come home from work get in to bed and repeat.
There should be a filter option on Facebook for, I work the weekends am a depressed bastard and feel anger at happy weekend posts. I would tick it.

Thank fuck it’s Saturday. I only have the, Monday morning dread posts to deal with now.

But you’ve got time.

If orange is the new black, then work is the new prison.
My holidays are almost over. I have cried.
I was having a chat yesterday with my bf, and we came to the conclusion that prison would probably be a better alternative to my job.

I’m not feeling refreshed or any happier about going back.

I’ve got the dread. The, I’m going to cry, pull my hair out and elope dread.

I should just quit. Fuck the bills.

I should..


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