Well my bowling league is over. We rallied to finish 5th in a six team league. My average finished @ 135. Pretty much what I expected it to be. My feelings are mixed to be sure. I was lucky enough to meet 3 very sweet people to bowl with. Phil and Sheila, a married couple my age who are alot of fun. Phis is a mountain of a man who throws his ball with a sweeping hook, and very hard. He is one of the best bowlers in our league. Sheila, his wife is an adorable sweet woman whose bowling skills are suspect but improving. Becky, a married woman, I am guesing in her early 40's throws a ball that is so slow you feel like running after it when she throws. She bowls in alot of leagues, but doesnt take herself too seriously. I will miss the commeraderie until next season. If there is a next season for me that is. Regualr readers know what fence I am sitting on.
Work is status quo. Nothing outlandish to report, but the slow steady abuse is wearing me down.
Little things, snarky side comments, passive agressive bullying. Not my style, but again, I do get paid.
Snowing here today. Alaska's state motto should be " Its all about the weather" because if its not 30 below then its fucking snowing. I know we are 25 yards from Santa Claus' house, but how about a little spring huh?
Well, back to work. I have plenty of it. Its just that its Saturday and I'd rather be drinking coffee in my jammies. Aloha All
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You should go to www.workrant.com. I believe you would shame all those wanna-be slaves to labor.
Again, just keep cashing those checks (and don't forget to send the Basque a few bucks as well).
Too bad you are not mean enough to treat the bitch like Jim treats Dwight in 'The Office.' There are ways to make her life miserable - uh, more miserable. Ah, what the fuck, she's as miserable as they come.
Maybe you should just try to glue her desk drawers shut. Or put Preparation H on her telephone, or spit a gigantic hocker into her coffee, or make a prank call when she's at the front desk:
You (voice disguised): Yes, I need to speak to Mike Hunt.
Bitch (over PA): Call for Mike Hunt; Mike Hunt. Would Mike Hunt please come to the front desk for a phone call.
Or call her up and ask if the alley has a restaurant, and if so, does she have pigs feet.
Or do they have Prince Albert in a can?
I don't know...between CV's entries and eddie's comments, it's a very entertaining read.
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