Another Day In Paradise

I groaned like an oak tree in a tornado at having to get up this morning. This is normal, however, and part of my life-long protest at mornings in general and the fact I have to drag myself out of bed to do things during them, when every sane person knows mornings are for sleeping, drinking coffee, nursing your hangover, peeing and more sleeping.

I arrived at work, cold, frowning and not inclined to deal with assorted dickwaddery from anyone, to find a very pleasing lack of Dark Überlord. I wasn’t sure what to do at first – be ecstatic and do a happy dance or commence being very suspicious of why there was no Dark Überlord. I glanced tentatively around each corner, to make sure the Apocalypse wasn't crouching there waiting to trip me up, but no.

I decided that looking a gift horse in the face is beyond stupid and so I began the dancing and followed it with coffee imbibing and joyous knuckle cracking. My own knuckles I mean - I don’t want you thinking I’m going around smashing other people’s joints with a ball peen hammer or anything. Not that the thought doesn’t occur to me fairly regularly...

When he does show up he’s not going to be happy to learn I haven’t been able to upgrade his flight to Europe for this evening from business class to first because the airline was completely over sold on first class. The fact that no seats exist and there is also a waiting list ahead of him will not be an acceptable excuse to the Dark Überlord, who thinks I can just conjure these things up because he wishes it so. If I had that talent I’d be in Fiji right now, lying in the sun, sucking down exotic beverages while a nubile, tanned lovely boy fanned me with a huge palm frond and fed me chocolates. I'm sorry, I just slipped back into fantasy land yet again.

Also, if I’d only known he wasn’t coming in all morning I could have had a very satisfying forty winks on his couch for an hour or two. Damn inconsiderate man.

On a nice note though, I am very flattered to realize my ambition of becoming an honest to God, goddamn, fabulous Internet quasi-celebrity (like Britney only with panties), thanks to my being subjected to an interview by the mean and nasty SUZE, so go on over there and tell her what a mean beeyotch she really is. And hot damn, that pepper spray stings!