Blindness, Anarchy, Macadamia-Nut Cookies

I will now impart some words of wisdom:

Zoop. Fizz. Neener. Blerp. Wazzaaaah.

In a meeting today, my boss challenged me to spell onomatopoeia. I failed miserably. Not only did I fail miserably, I failed miserably and publicly. Because the programmer dude running the meeting had his wifi-snazzy laptop rigged up to the conference room's projector, and bossman asked him to show m-w.com on the projector and type my spelling into it. Oh, the humiliation. My inability to spell was spelled out in twelve feet of illumination against the white wall for programming, QA and proofing to see and LAFF AT.

Woot. At least I entertained somebody today.

So, this has been the week from hell. That project? Yeah, it's still not done. The deadline has been extended one further day each day. My ex has pointed out things I've done wrong on the index each of those days, and then my evenings have been spent in tortured, agonized, frustrated rage fixing the stupid problems she should have pointed out last week before this shit was due back at the press if she had that big a problem with it. You know that scene in Wedding Singer when Adam Sandler's girlfriend shows up the next day after dumping him at the altar and is all, "I guess I just wanted to marry the Robby who was a rock star" and Adam Sandler with his glorious raging 80s mullet of doom looks at her and goes, "Information that would have proved useful to me YESTERDAY!"

Well, that's how I feel. I am trying to make light of this situation, but in reality, it has been the shittiest week I have had in at least several years. I honestly can't remember a worse one than this. I'm being strung along and tortured and made to feel stupid and, well, I hate it. It's like poison. She called tonight and left a message on the answering machine before I got home from work (which didn't happen until 8, since in addition to this nonsense, I'm flooded with work at work), telling me there was another list of problems she had that needed to be fixed. She called again later. I didn't answer. I didn't call her back. If that means I'm going to hell, I guess I'm going to hell.

Moving right along.

The earth is one fucked-up place to live. Have a look at this. This, right here, is about where my sense of humor is today. Right in the guttery gutter. With all the guttery crud that goes into the sewage system. Start at the bottom and read up. That is some creativity right there.

I will delve into the comments from the deja vu post this weekend, hopefully. Thanks to all of you for providing input. I shall attempt to sort and make sense. And I will explain what the marine said.

And to Dr. Charles, who asked if I did that drawing, yah. I did. Here is another drawing I did, which fits the mood of the day. It's a little hard to tell that she's pointing a gun at the viewer since the photo of the drawing wasn't that great and I had to church it up a bit with Picasa to get the contrast right, but that's what she's doing.

Over n' out; another day of jizzasters awaits. Note to self: tomorrow, leave the windows of the car *rolled up* so that when I trudge out of work late, my car will not be full of stank-ass acid rainwater from the sudden thunderstorm like it was today...