Update

As bad as I thought yesterday was, it was soooo much worse today. OMG. Now apparently some a-hole in Saudi Arabia has it out for me because I can't cater to his every whim. I don't even know what this guy looks like, but I hate him - because of my preconceived notions of his cultural attitudes toward women, and the fact that, as it seems most high-powered, high-paid folks can be - he is completely oblivious to the idea that some things are out of my control, i.e. in the hands of OTHER evil sexist heartless douchebags who have no desire to assist the hard-working, eager-to-please peons like yours truly.

Hey, A-hole, do YOU want to call the Saudi Embassy and tell them their website is ridiculous and that they can suck it? Yeah, I didn't think so.

I spoke to Sparkle for the first time in almost a week. She's been really busy with her mother, who's apparently monumentally worse than the last time we saw her...at least, as far as my denial was concerned. She took her mother to Texas, which is where they would go when she was a little girl, every year, for Thanksgiving, to see family. It seems that her mother didn't know who anyone was, and has even forgotten who SHE is. Sylvia didn't know who I was the last time I saw her, but I didn't freak out or anything, but then she's not MY mother. I can't imagine having to deal with that. In fact, I try not to think about that very real possibility. I complain about not being able to handle my bullshit little life, and I don't even have to handle the hard shit. I'm so sorry, Mama. I'm so so sorry.

Ok. I get it. I take FULL responsibility for being a douchebag.

Y'all may have known this for some time, and I suppose I have as well, but I'm coming clean about it now. I'm a douchebag. No excuses. I just am. I hate my fucking job right now. It's an utter misery. I'm working for 3 of the busiest people in the office, plus I'm liaising with building management, plus I'm dealing with this new accounting system, plus apparently I have to deal with the goddamn office drama which I did not instigate (WTF?). But, you know, I'm gainfully employed. I'm single, with no kids. I have no one to worry about but myself. I live in the richest country in the world, and I still have my feet (unbound) and my sexual organs intact. I have shoes on said feet, and shampoo and conditioner in the shower, and cable tv and the internets. And yet, I'm soooo fucking miserable, I have no words. I spoke to my supervisor and basically told him I'm at the end of my rope. I can handle no more, and I'm really worried. He told me it was going to be ok, and to relax and have a shot of whiskey. YES HE DID. As far as I'm concerned, that's permission to drink at work. I only wish they would let me smoke at my desk, too.