GBCW

Weeping! Wailing! Gnashing of teeth!

I have lost everything! Employment opportunities! Friends! Pantyhose!

I suffer in an agony foisted upon me by enemy shamans! Scottish African German and American shamans have brought me to a level of woe that cannot even be addressed by Tilex! Indeed, the very POWAH of CHEESE is ineffective before their mighty wrath!

Not only this, but the Vengeance(tm) of psychotic stalker exes and their Brotherhood has once again been manifested in my life! I am out three hours and a pair of pantyhose and I have no idea how I will ever recover from this trauma!

Clearly I should never have been so fucking lazy as to keep getting out of bed with a ruptured L5 vertebrae to take my 2.5 hour ride into the city for the exalted honor of carrying forty pound system backplanes in high heels for sexist Wall Street fucktards. The mere nerve of me to expect reward and praise (not to mention equal pay) for doing the right thing, I mean, really! I should have been home baking cookies for my man. Obviously I just don’t have the right stuff and never did. My four page resume is mere cotton candy. Oh, and I’m fat and over forty in a world where eye candy MATTERS. Well, ok, it matters to someone, I guess.

See, my problem isn’t that I was sitting in the same room with the entire New York City Sun Microsystems office when, as part of our orientation meeting for the move into our new offices in the World Trade Center, they played this movie clip.

My problem is that when I was sitting in another room with the same people in October 2001 in a hotel in New Jersey, listening to them cry and vent about the stuff they experienced during the 9/11 attack, I remembered that they showed this clip when we moved into the World Trade Center, and I was very tempted to stand up and scream at the top of my lungs, “FUCK YOU! GO HOME AND PLAY WITH YOUR KIDS!” to see if any of them remembered too.

Yeah. I guess that’s my problem.

And even worse… domestic spying continues apace, and I am made to hear the taunts of those who are (*ahem*) “competent” in that strange, secretive and sticky-handed existence through LOLCATS messages and the SCA Livejournal community!

But here’s what’s worst of all: for all their comparative (*coughahem*) competence, respectability, political correctness, good looks and (*coughahem*) “clean” hands, it would seem that none of my… hmmm, what should I refer to them as – compatriots? Co-workers? Cow-orkers? None of those People Who Are So Much Fucking Better Than I Am At Everything In Life(tm) can seem to actually SOLVE the problems of the creeping fascism, warrantless wiretapping, accountability for the Bush administration, restoration of Constitutional values, the looting of the Treasury, the spazzing economy, global warming, world hunger, or AIDS.

Oh, and we’re out of beer.

Alas! My life is clearly over. I have no reason to exist. I must flee or kill myself. Probably both. I’m not sure in which order. At least I will be in good company, I am sure my ghost will have some excellent conversations with Alan Turing.

Goodbye, cruel world.

19 comments

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  1. Happy April First.

  2. thank you.

    ~Lady Lib, Boycotting Pantyhose since 1996.

  3. Yuck.  Pants for me.

    Happy April First back atcha!

  4. talk to about the world ending and all.

    They didn’t get to you because of me did they?

    • Edger on April 1, 2009 at 19:01
  5. Too funny!  Humor on the square, though!

    It may have been winter time, I guess, because I can’t think of any other reason to wear pantyhose under pants than that.  At any rate, a number of years ago, I was at work, when I noticed something creeping out of the bottom of my pants (they were kinda’ balloon pants and somewhat gathered at the bottom and paisley).  I checked a little further, of course, and began pulling on what I thought was a knee-high hose.  I kept pulling and pulling and delivered up a pair of pantyhose.

    It was one of those moments when you just kinda’ sit and shake your head at your own folly!  

  6. Photobucket

  7. Fairbanks is lovely this time of year.  The arrival of spring has the temp up to 14 degrees.  

  8. As soon as I get here, you’re on your way out!  

    PS…  You Rock!  ðŸ˜‰

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