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Driving into work today I accidentally had my iPod gangsta mix playing. Don’t judge me! Actually you can, I certainly would.

My phone rang and I hit speaker and answered it assuming it would be my brother bugging me about his latest prison tool obsession. It wasn’t. It was a client. Which is cool, I’m all for the clients I like calling me. Though, I have a feeling she may have a difficult time taking me serious after hearing “Damn It Feels Good To Be A Gangsta” blaring in the background.

Oh well, such is life… you can’t win them all.

The Kid called me fat today, or not fat. I’m so confused.

We’ve been passing back and forth a stale granola bar for a week. I had every intention of eating it when I picked it up a couple of weeks ago, and then didn’t. I put it on his desk BECAUSE I AM A NICE PERSON! He didn’t eat it and put it back on my desk. We soon started adding notes listing reasons why the other should eat it. He suggested I lay off the caffeine and eat it for natural energy. Ha! I then suggested he is young and likely sowing his wild oats and should therefore eat an oat bar.

His latest note is going to be hard to top:

I’m in a bad mood today. While I don’t have one specific reason, I have dozens that would suffice. Though for the sake of your sanity, I’ll list the top four.

Winter: I’m so over it! I’m sick of being cold; I’m tired of wet shoes and pants; I’m annoyed there is no decent parking because of snow drifts the size of my car.

Construction: The office suite next to mine has been in a state of construction for what feels like an eternity. It’s loud; It’s distracting; It’s dirty; It’s loud; I can’t walk down the hall without having someone in my way and also being in their way; Oh, and it’s LOUD!

Burns: I have a burn on my hand from attempting to make bread pudding. DISASTER! This was over a week ago and the burn is only getting worse. And yes, I’m applying Neosporin ALL THE TIME, but it’s still getting worse. I suspect I contracted a flesh eating disease from either a) the construction disaster or b) God.

Math class: Really, do I need to explain this? The fact I can’t log into the class because I own a Mac computer. How can an institution of higher education not have a system in place for both a Mac and PC. Totally and completely fucking insane. I can say fuck, I’m in a bad mood. In fact, I can yell it loudly, but you wouldn’t hear me because of the construction.

And yes, Mom, I know you raised me better, but frankly fuck being raised better.

Working full-time, going to school full-time and making time to watch Snoop Dogg’s Father Hood doesn’t leave me with a whole lot of free time. Fitting in daily tasks such as grocery shopping, sleeping and working out has been a challenge.

Yesterday, while lunching with a co-worker, we decided to try and fit in a liquor store run. The weekend is nearly upon us and I was completely out of wine. Unacceptable. The trip was a complete success; my favorite Shiraz was on sale. Getting into his car to head back to work I heard my mother’s nagging “Buckle-up, Sarah, safety first.” So I did.

A couple of blocks from the office a SUV next to us forgot to check lanes before moving over. (Is it really that difficult?) The vehicle nearly hit us and it was that moment I realized I’d buckled the wrong seat belt.

The building manager must read my blog. That’s the only explanation I can come up with for this heat I feel coming from the vents.

After a month of complaining and one day of blog bitching, it’s finally fixed. Which really makes me regret the three pairs of socks I’m wearing, and the triple dose of cold medicine I took in expectation of ending up ill.

It’s probably short-lived, but I plan to enjoy every second of it. Sweet, sweet heat, how I love thee.

The building manager of my office is a heat Nazi. I’m a wuss when it comes to the cold, but when even my clients are complaining, there’s definitely a problem. When asked today why the AC was on he replied, “That it is warm and sunny outside.” BASTARD!

I am not a morning person. This is a well-known fact among my friends and previous bosses. I cannot function properly until after ten. This sucks for any of the clients I do work for, but…

I’ve tried everything: going to bed earlier, tripling my morning dose of coffee, massive does of morning meth and still nothing works.

Over the past year I’ve started turning into my mother by forgetting things right and left. Mornings are by far the worst time for remembering any details. I’m not talking about complicated details, just the basic essential items…like getting dressed. I’ve left the house and headed to the office in slippers multiple times in the last few months. Luckily it’s been cold so I’ve remembered pants–no one wants a frozen hiney.

As I’ve mentioned here and here, I’ve started leaving myself reminder notes on my front door to ensure some things aren’t forgotten. Today’s is by far the worst of the bunch: If I have to remind myself why I’m leaving the house it might be time to admit defeat and just stay home.

I’m spent. Seriously, 100% exhausted. So much, in fact, I’m thinking about picking up a drug or alcohol “habit” so I can take a vacation at The Betty. I kid, I kid… mostly.

I started a new job recently and it’s a bigger challenge than I thought it would be, which is not a bad thing, just exhausting. However, once I get settled I’m sure there will be many entertaining tidbits. For example, riding in the elevator with the wonky-eyed guy and working with a child who enjoys chicken. And pot pies.

But until then, I’m going to bed. Or hitting the bottle.

I haven’t blogged much about my new job. After my last experience can you blame me?

I’ve been spending my days at a local media technology company. There are under ten people with only one other female. And get this, I like her! I’m sure my old work mates are falling out of their chairs, since I typically dislike other females in the office.

Today, while in a lunch meeting, we discussed chlamydia over pizza. It was at that moment I looked around at my co-workers and knew I was home.

Just now as I watched a workmate flip his pen I found myself sitting on my hands in an effort not to reach for my letter opener.

Momentarily I was taken back to a time where my then boyfriend would flip anything and everything in hand: pens, poker chips, panties. “Panties?”… you ask. Okay, not panties but I love alliteration. It used to drive me stark raving mad. You know a relationship is going downhill when you’re tempted on a daily basis to stab his hands. This, people, is NOT a good sign.

I explained to my workmate why his action caused such a dramatic look of disdain. He understood.

I, SarahMiddleNameless Nielson, do solemnly swear not to stab anyone in the hand unless they really do deserve it. My workmate does not deserve it–he’s funny and has good taste in music.

Today, there will be no stabbing.