Getting even with Monday
Right back at ya, Monday
I decided that if Monday was going to act like a little bitch, I wasn't going to let it get the best of me. So I sat at my desk, entertaining myself with the thought that the Yankees are one game closer to sending Lou Pinniella running home to his mommy like a little crybaby.
I was also entertained at a nice little meeting today where we were schooled in the way of anthrax filled envelopes. The most important piece of advice by far was "Be careful of envelopes labeled suspsiciously, like ones that say 'ANTHRAX' written on them." Ok bucko, thanks for the tip there. Cause all these terrorists are labeling their germ warfare now. My other favorite: "Be aware for anything suspicious in a package, for instance, inappropriate ticking sounds." Are there appropriate ticking sounds, I wonder? The rest of the meeting was drowned out by the buzzing in my ears that derived from the smell of tar infiltrating my brain. Hey, guys? Maybe this isn't the best time to be letting people fuck around with the heating and ventilation systems.
So I returned to my desk, only to be besieged by a barrage of phone calls from arrogant attorneys. One after another, they got on my very last nerve until I was ready to kick the wall in. I decided not to go with the anger and instead, dug into the vast recesses of my brain and remembered my lamaze breathing exercises. In. Out. In. Out. Breathe. Breathe. In. Out. I was in a zone, transported back to the serenity of laying on a hospital bed, nurses at my side, getting into perfect breathing rythmn. Then the phone rang, jarring me out of my mental stupor and I think that's when I yelled "EPIDURAL! NOW!"
Unfortunately, no one came forth with any numbing drugs. I'm going out now to see if some Waffle House chili cheese fries will do the trick.