Another Manic Monday

Disclaimer: The following may contain language that is inappropriate for minors or whiney ass people who have no lives and like to visit other’s Blogs and complain that they are offended. If this might be you, please see below, for all others, “Have a nice day”.

I truly hate Mondays. Everyone is mulling around anxious to tell you about their weekend. As if I really give a fuck about you and your pathetic life. It is a wonder that any fucking work gets done on Mondays. I mean, the first hour is spent checking personal emails, favorite web sites and blogs. Yes I am guilty. Then it is off to the coffee machine to stand around and tell everyone how little Johnny took his first crap, or how they found a great bargain at the local dollar store. Somewhere about 2 hours into the day people actually begin to start to face the fact that this is a place of business and decide to retrieve their inter-company email. From now until lunch time will be spent answering emails and starting huge email trails copying everyone in the company on his or her opinion. God forbid that one should get their fat Midwestern ass up and walk 100 feet and talk face to face with the person. Then comes lunch. All the fat bitches line up early as if deprived and famished at the microwaves with their “Lean Cuisines” and their “Jenny” snacks. It is funny to watch them all counting on their fingers how many “points” that they have left in the day knowing damn well as soon as they get home they will be shoving “Little Debbie’s” in their faces. You can just picture their husbands coming home looking for any excuse to end it all. Yes, Mondays suck.
I hate to keep posting about my Mom, but it is my blog so I can. Today she called me all in a panic. See, dear ol’ Mom got this cat to keep her company, never mind the fact that she is a heartless old hag who hates all living creatures, especially animals. So she says that she has lost the cat. “Lost the cat” I repeat. How does one “loose” a cat? I asked her if it got out, she said no. She said that she can hear it every once in a while. I told her that if that was the case then it was not lost. She demanded that I drop everything that I was doing, put my life on hold and come over and find her new friend. I told her that I would be there after work. She paused then decided it was her best shot.
I arrived and was greeted by my aging Mother. She had some sort of rag on her head and she looked like she hadn’t dressed in days. I got in the house and started the “Here kitty, kitty” crap. Like I knew what in the hell I was doing. I asked her when was the last time that she had seen the cat. She told me it was earlier in the day, she was making coffee and fixing her breakfast. That equates to around ten or eleven in the morning. We were standing there and I was noodling the possibilities of me actually being adopted. That is when I heard it. A faint MEOW. The cat was close. Again I started with the “here kitty, kitty” crap and again, a faint MEOW. I followed the cry and it led me to the kitchen. Another MEOW. The mystery was over. The missing cat was about to be found. I opened the door to the refrigerator and their on the bottom shelf, in the back behind the tub of “Country Crock” was the cat. The cat looked at me as if to say “Please rescue me from this crazy old bitch”. I could relate. After all, I spent most of my life being raised by her. She was crazy then, pre Alzheimer’s.
Mom acted like it was no big deal. The cat moved real slow. I took it to the vet for precaution. Eighty dollars later the vet said that she would be fine. I have a new roommate. A cat.
I hate Mondays.
Please note that no fat people, nor Midwesterners were harmed in the making of this post and all names have been changed to protect the guilty. I just hate the people I work with and in no way meant for this to falsely portrait the good people out there in blog land.