Fix the Fucked with a Side of Cocoa

Well fine. Let me be absolutely fucking honest. At least for a moment. Today is day two of crappiness. And I am ready for something different. And I don't mean mildly annoying experiences. Rather. I speak of full on crap.

Yesterday I felt crappy. And today I woke up with a continuation of said feelings of crappiness. So it would have been most preferable to crawl back into bed this morning. Pull the covers up to my nose. And remain there for the day.

But that did not happen. Because I am too fucking responsible. And quite frankly I am not so much the type of person who is particularly skilled at feeling sorry for herself. So. I got out of bed. And did all of the things that I do after getting out of bed in order to get my ass to the office.

So. I arrive at my office this morning. And I am fully aware of the fact that I am in a fairly unpleasant mood. However I am drinking tea. And listening to Book M. So even though I am feeling rather less than my typically cheerful self. Do not laugh. I am fucking cheerful. At least I am drinking tea and listening to SC3.

Attorney Number Two arrives at my office door some time before nine o'clock in the am. For those of you who have not memorized every word that I have written as of yet I will inform you that Attorney Number Two is the spandex and bandana wearing attorney.

He is in the aforementioned attire and asks me to make what seems to be a rather routine call to the UNNAMED COUNTY Probation Office. Of course the call turns out to be anything but routine. Let me explain.

First. No one is able to "find" our client in their "database" so I am transferred. And then transferred again. The second transfer involves speaking with CCO DOE. I have now moved up the ranks in the UNNAMED COUNTY Probation Office. So I explain the reason for my call to CCO DOE. And He begins laughing. Hysterically. In fact I am quite certain that he stopped breathing for a moment. I imagine him rolling around on the floor. In fact. I believe that he actually dropped the phone at some point during his laughing episode.

I wait. Patiently. Blink. Then blink again. We have a very blunt conversation about who fucked up and how they fucked up and why they fucked up. In fact the phrase "fucked up" was used numerous times throughout the course of this conversation. And I do not believe that I have ever used the phrase "fucked up" when speaking with anyone at the UNNAMED COUNTY Probation Office. But this guy is old school. And it seems to be expected.

So. I am patient. And insanely diplomatic. Even though I am using ridiculous amounts of profanity. And it appears that CCO DOE is going to try to help me out and give our client a break.

And all I had to do is offer the soul of my first born child. Little does CCO DOE know that I have promised said soul to many before him. He will have to wait in line. Or sue me.

So now I wait to see if CCO DOE is going to make good on his promise. Even though the insanity of the situation is not the fault of our poor little client. He could get royally fucked by said fuck up. So I had to kiss some CCO ass. I am fine with this. Because I am all about getting my way. In the end. So I wait.

But maybe I am not so much fine with this today. And perhaps it is because I am already in a rather unpleasant mood. But permit to say the following: I am sick of cleaning up every fucking mess all of the bitch ass damn time. And here is what really gets me. I must always be the fucking diplomatic one. Because that is the only way shit ever gets accomplished. And there are times when I do not want to be the diplomatic one.

There are times when I want to stab someone in the eye with a fork. But I am fully aware that I cannot simply go around stabbing everyone in the eye with a fork. Someone would eventually object.

So I tell the attorney of said fucked-up-ness. His response is for me to tell CCO DOE that he said to fuck off. Now of course I will not tell this guy that the attorney told him to fuck off. I will also not relay the string of obscenities that poured from his mouth after I explained the circumstances of said fucked-up-ness. Because this will not assist our client in what has become an enormous fucking nightmare.

However. I can not help but wonder what would happen if I did relay the string of obscenities directed at said CCO. I would only be doing as I was instructed. It could prove interesting.

Perhaps I should secure alternate employment before attempting such an action.

Now I am most certain that I will spend the overwhelming majority of the day resolving this issue. And once said issue has been resolved I will question why the fuck I cannot seem to resolve my own personal life issues as easily. However you will notice the continuing lack of question mark punctuation at the end of the previous sentence. Because in this moment I am not certain that I can handle the answer.

So I have decided something. I am going to get up from my desk. And walk out of my office. And go make some cocoa.