d-day

I've never been one to kiss the corporate arse or any arse in general. Today will test my nerves and abilitly to maintain as I travel downtown to Starbucks headquarters for my panel meeting for a promotion. I could really use the $1.50 an hour raise so I have to put on a show and talk about coffee and pretend that I really give a fuck about my job. Newsflash: I work because you give me money to live. I have other aspirations. Do you really think my persistent counter-drumming with my fingers is some sort of Parkinson's display? Think again. I serve muffins and coffee because you pay me. And after you give me this raise I might be able to pay my bills.

If you (reader) have noticed my bitterness as of late, your perceptions are correct. I'm dealing with a lot of personal crap that I don't feel like blogging about. What it all comes down to is basically, remember when you were a kid and the days seemed endless? Christmas Eve seemed like and eternity, right? Why then , as we get older, are there just not enough hours in the day?