Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad...Friday

I’m so not a morning person.  Boyfriend and I typically don’t speak after we get up till we kiss each other good-bye if it’s avoidable.  And if he does say something I usually can’t muster up the enthusiasm to respond.  You might think when a Friday rolls around I would adjust my attitude.  Alas, for as those who spoke with me this morning know, Friday makes me no more cheery than any other day of the week.  But today, today was one of those days that made me think I probably should have stopped by the pharmacy drive thru on my way to work to see if they had an extra Prozac lying around.  Fridays are supposed to be the best day of the work week.  This particular Friday failed to live up to expectations.  Here’s why:

I woke up to the realization that I did not get to wear jeans to work today.  Meant I had to iron pants.  I don’t like ironing on Fridays. So I just tossed my pants in the dryer with some towels for 5 mins.

Boyfriend said I had to go to work.  I told him to ask his boss for a raise so I don’t have to go there.  He says me working is part of this deal.  Fine.

Got to work.  New Guy – still don’t know his name – starts crying via Instant Message about me hurting his feelings for not wanting to be his best friend in the whole entire world.  Or maybe he wanted me to do his work for him.  Something like that.  Either way - do I look like I’m here to make friends?   This was when the Prozac would have helped.  I managed to not offer him a tampon even un-medicated. 

I didn’t go tanning on lunch.  I worked through lunch.

I went to use the bathroom – learned I’d not chosen to zip my zipper last time I’d been there hours before.  I’m not four years old.  I should be able to remember how to get dressed.  (I blame New Guy for killing my brain cells with his stupid commentary.)  Good thing I never take my jacket off and it covered this little faux pas.  Thank you North Face for preserving my dignity. 

My office mate then played the Cupid Shuffle for like the 65465753745435753453756^th time since Shannon’s B-Party last summer – forcing me to then dig out my headphones that I hadn’t bothered finding yet so I can drown out this insufferable repetition.    This is not an "at work" song.  This is an "at the bar" song.  Correction.  This was an "at the bar" song.  Like five years ago.

I think that’s all.  Unless some b-word thinks I want to Tango on the 190 on the way home.  Can’t wait to do this all over again next week.  Happy rainy weekend everyone.

*note – I’m totally not on any mood altering prescriptions.  But I bet some people in my life wouldn’t stand opposed. 

I'm pretty sure this was what New Guy looked like for like 3 hours this morning. Except he's not dreamy.  I think Dawson is supposed to be dreamy?  I don't know.  I never watched that show.