That's it, it's official. I've reached my project limit as of today. This minute. I'm "officially" at 10 now. TEN fucking projects. The ass is done overloaded - go find another ass to saddle with your requests. I've had it.Hear me, O Wall Street and tremble at my declaration! I will take no more projects on. That's it. Stick a fork in me - I'm done.
I think I just might have to start acting the diva now - We're making on the $$$$ and we're still treated like the illegitimate step child of this company. No more projects until I get my Italian villa in Roma. No more projects until I have a bottle of champagne delievered to my house every Friday afternoon for the next year. No more projects until my cabinets are stocked with Godiva dark chocolate truffles and diet coke.
That's it. Done. Ass done full. Go sell crazy somewhere else, 'cause I'm all stocked up now.
I think I need more alcohol. And I need to get laid. Yeah, sad but true. Too bad Mr. Wicked isn't corporeal. I could put him to good use for a change. (Heh, he's giving me his "disgusted" look again. He thinks he's ALWAYS useful.) Go on with yo' bad self then, you naughty boy! HA!
Oh, I do wish sometimes I could take a picture of him, but, alas, all I have are words to describe him and it's just not the same. It's probably a good thing he ISN'T corporeal 'cause I probably would have strangled him about a million times by now considering how hateful he's been to me. Never talking when I want him to, pouting for no reason, keeping me up half the night and not letting me eat, demanding that I drop everything RIGHT THIS MINUTE because he wants to talk. Yeah, he'd be about dead a hundred times over and I'd be in Marysville. *shudder*
The Rogue Goddess saw shadows dancing at 11:49 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home