Thursday, Jan. 29, 2004 @ 6:35 p.m.

Going Postal

I work with two truly disturbed bitches.

The first bitch is an old, stumpy Indian woman who happens to be the doctor of the clinic. She frequently reminisces on how she came to this country in 1975, with her husband and two boys, whom she ended up raising on her own when the Mr. split shortly after they arrived. She put herself through Med. school with "no help from anyone" while simultaneously affording her children a private school education. Apparently, this entitles her to the hard-knock-lifetime achievement award and gives her immediate moral and experiential supremacy over anyone within a twenty-mile radius.

The good Dr. also flaunts the annoying habit of already knowing everything about everyone with one glance, including what they were going to say next, which leaves her walking around with her head up her ass half the time. She also has a big mouth, so more often than not, she'll be sounding off on some poor patient who can hear her clearly from the next room, making repeat customers nonexistent. She lives alone and goes to church *every day* because she is a lonely, miserable old bag with nothing better to do. She's also a two-faced back stabber who likes to stir up trouble between people. Except for one person who I will so kindly describe in the next entry.

She constantly runs hot and cold; just when you think that you've finally made a breakthrough and developed some semblance of a non-hostile relationship with her, you stumble across some shitty little stunt and discover that once again, you've made an ass of yourself and slept with the enemy.

The saddest, sickest part of the whole issue is that I want her to like me. I feel like I need her approval so that I can know that I'm a good person. She wouldn't know a good person if they bit her on the ass. When I'm at work, and our relationship is hostile, I can't just brush it off and have a good day. I walk around the clinic feeling angry and sad and worthless and the minute that she looks my way during a conversation, like she's actually including me, or attempts to speak to me when we're standing alone, I feel like everything's all right in the world, only to be slammed back down to earth during the next mood swing. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Why do I give a FUCK?

Fuck it.

The worst part is she's just one half of the problem.

The current mood of tagamii at www.imood.com

*******************************************************

Reading~
Listening to~
Worrying about~

<~~ & ~~>

******************************************************* Incontinence - Friday, Mar. 10, 2006

Winter - Friday, Nov. 04, 2005

Greetings from home - Wednesday, Oct. 26, 2005

OCEAN - Sunday, Sept. 18, 2005

More Potty Talk & Ground Zero - Tuesday, Sept. 06, 2005