Random Rambly Rant

This was the most retarded day. Seriously. It’s not even in the realm of bad anymore, now it’s just silly. Do you want to hear what happened? I know you do.

So getting ready for work I discovered that I had weird hair. Like, really weird. I decided ponytail was a good way to go, so I did that. I went upstairs and broke out the new tights I just bought over the weekend (2 pairs at $14 each, for the record.) and put them on. Uh oh. They are bad tights. They’re the brand I always buy, in the size I always buy, but they’re wrong somehow. For one thing they took out the label, so I couldn’t tell the front from the back. For another thing, once I guessed vaguely at what was front and what was back and pulled them on, they sat about an inch under my waist. Ummm, huh? What is this, low-rise tights? I kind of hopped around, yanking on them, telling myself it would be fine, they’d stretch out in a few minutes or something, and I went downstairs.

I decided to wear some huge earrings, in order to distract the world from what my hair was doing. They’re pretty metal lattice-y things, and I rarely ever wear them when my hair is down, because they get stuck in it. So it’s all WIN so far, right? Then I decide to wear some intense lipstick, as further ammo to draw the eye away from my hair. I grab the lipstick that was so expensive that it OUGHT to be fabulous, and I put that on. Problem being it’s really sucky lipstick and always makes me look weirdly like I have tattooed lip liner, but I can’t bring myself to throw it away because it was expensive and it was bought online, and I think I might be punishing myself for believing the Internet marketing hype.

So anyway, there I am with these awful falling-down tights, weird hair, giant earrings and fucked up lipstick. Perfect start to the day, and I am also running late. Part of the reason I am running late is that just as I go to leave the house, I hear what sounds like gunshots coming from up the street, so I have to wait to see if there are going to be any shooters lurking out back by my car.

I get to work, and the tights are seriously losing the game by the time I am halfway across the parking lot. I begin to consider an emergency tight-ectomy, because I am wearing a long skirt and it’s actually rather warm in our office, but I can’t remember if I shaved my legs last night. Fuck.

I get in and go to cafeteria where the lady hassles me AGAIN about my perfume. I don’t know how many times I can tell her what it’s called, no I don’t have a sample, yes you can get it at Macy’s, no I don’t know if the lady at the swap meet sells an oil-based, knock-off version. I wonder to myself if I look like I hang out at the fucking swap meet, and decided that I probably do, considering the hair and the homeless lady lipstick.

Breakfast arranged, I go to my office. <<redacted for work-related content>>

<<redacted for work-related content>>

I am so aggravated by all of this, and my blood pressure is so high, that I check the calendar to see if I am hormonal or something. Unfortunately I have no hormonal excuse.

Then they start hammer-drilling the brick wall outside my office. I am serious. Hammer-drilling on brick. This lasts on and off for the next four hours.

One of my employees comes in and compliments me on my snowflake earrings. I grimace. These aren’t snowflake earrings! Holy crap, do I look like the kind of person who would wear seasonal snowflake earrings? Because that’s one short step away from wearing festive holiday sweaters, and using way too much hand lotion so all your desk accessories are constantly covered in a light, oily sheen. Now I want to take off the earrings, but then I will have nothing to distract from how entirely weird my hair is.

I go to the bathroom and adjust the tights. I catch sight of myself in the mirror and see that my ponytail has slid off to the side, so I am channeling Punky Fucking Brewster now, apparently. Jesus.

Back to the office, and the tights are still falling down. I can’t take it anymore. Tights in trash. No, I didn’t shave last night after all. Glamorama.

In the meantime, they’re still hammer-drilling outside my office, and I feel like I am going to lose it. A steady stream of people keep coming into my office asking me for stuff, <<redacted for work-related content>> Every person who comes into our area stops by my office to ask how I am doing. These are nice people, upon whom I do not wish to vent my spleen, so I lie, and lie and lie.

Also, now my bare feet are sweaty in these shoes, which really need to be worn with socks or tights.

<<redacted for work-related content>> That’s when it started to be ludicrous instead of aggravating.

What a day. What a goofy, wasted, nonsensical day. And I shouldn’t have let any of it bother me, of course. And telling myself that just aggravates me more, because it makes me feel like a broken, stupid kind of person who lets those kind of things bother her.

OK, exhale. Now I am safely at home, where no one can see my weird hair, and I don’t even have to wear lipstick. Now to enjoy my evening, forgetting all this work BS. It’s almost weekend, right?