The Primal Scream

Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggghhhhhhhh!!!!!


Sorry. I just needed to get that out. I will be really glad when today is done. I haven't been able to get my regular work done, because I've been frantically running around getting things done for the employee appreciation day.

Pushing people to buy tickets to throw pies at management. They don't want to do it. No one carries cash or checkbooks. C'mon people! It's for the American Cancer Society! You can spare $1. Go check your car seat cushions, under your floor mats, the backs of your desk drawers. I know you've got enough change to make a buck. No, I'm not nagging people that mercilessly. But I take this to heart, because I have a very dear friend who's suffering from brain cancer. After 10 months, the tumor has once again reared its ugly self. So now she's on a more aggressive form of chemotherapy, and everyone who loves her is praying for more miracles.

Now I've got to go outside and blow up balloons and tape up streamers. I'll get hot and sweaty. And thanks to the genetic betrayal that is my legacy, I get really red in the face when I get hot and sweaty. No, you don't get it. I get so red in the face that people think I'm sick or dying. They gently invite me to sit down and offer me glasses of ice water. That red. I'm not sick or dying, and maybe not even that hot. I just get red in the face.

And I've already been through three bottles of water, which means numerous trips to the bathroom. Which means more sweat. And my face gets even redder. If that were even possible, which it must be, because it happens.

Gripe, gripe, gripe. Why don't y'all just tell me to get a grip and shut the eff up?

:)