PlazaJen: Passion Knit

So, yes, I am no longer hell-bent on pronging out my own eyes with a pickle fork, but am deeply steeped in the lovely fantasy of taking out the eyeballs of others, and have not limited myself to just the forks, but how I could knock out some teeth with an ice-tea spoon, and don't even GO to where I get medieval on their asses with the butter knife.

I still really like my job. Some weeks are more arduous, stressful, and eye-rolling than others, and when it shows on all of us, it's hard to remember that sometimes our jolly little crew could be confused with the Fun Committee at a Mexican resort, we have such good times. This week, most of us are playing the role of la pinata. And most of the work I need to finish involves (cue psychotic music:) BILLING. I freakin' hate billing reconciliation, bills, all of it. I want to stab them with a steak knife.

Oh, and while we're at it, and I'm being all frothy and whatnot, I'm just going to give you my line from last week, which is that I fervently hope that even the stupid can read lips. Yes, it was another instance of some Jen Road Rage, but seriously? If a copper has pulled someone over, I have my blinker on, and have edged the front half of LaFonda into your lane, before your dumbass even came over the hill? You have NO RIGHT to surge forward, nearly hit me, and give me a big arm movement with a thumb gesture that I should "get behind thee". So yes, I hope you could read my big lipsticky lips mouthing the astonished "FUCK YOU" in reaction to your audacity & dangerous, rude behavior. But I suspect I might be wishing for too much. A pickle fork in his eye might have been the only effective form of communication at that point.

I wrote the above yesterday (Wed)because a combination of sloggy internet & blogger being drunk prevented me from posting. This morning? I had an INSANE driver experience on my morning commute, something that immediately made me think I was in another country, because seriously, does anyone besides an ambulance cross into the oncoming lane of traffic and turn left on red? Apparently, one Kansas City resident does, and despite the fact he almost hit me (and would have CLEARLY been in the wrong, not to mention I'd have had the six cars of witnesses he illegally passed) he completely ignored LaFonda's irate horn. Motherfucker. For him? I would develop a special torture with a gravy ladle.