and now for something completely different

news flash: this work shit is for suckers. and, in response to the bullshit sprint we personally perform what seems like 7 days a week, i am seriously contemplating a crazy drama fuelled self-sabotaging act like arriving at work, late, in my fleece pj pants complete with stretched out shelf bra tank top and oversized cardigan (clashing, of course).

i will have showered, shaved, moisturized, and done my hair. i will be sporting lip gloss and i will smell good. otherwise, i will be unpredictable. i may be volatile.

my full to the brim coffee ( in a homemade ceramic mug, no lid) and ‘i dare you to challenge me’ attitude will be ready for the first person who so much as notices my tardiness or non adherence to dress code. and then, i walk. i know i  have grounds for working mother stress reaction syndrome and i will hapily go on extended sick leave. you’ve been warned.

i mean it. eff you hussle, you suck us dry.

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