Watch out, she's fucking pissed off again.

Yes, I do realize I spend a lot of time pissed off. And I do realize that some of it's my own doing. If I'd chose to let some shit just slide, I'd probably be a happier person, but damn my blog would suck. (well, more than it does on a normal day)

I ask you this, constant readers: is it bad form to ask your boss to refrain from coming to meetings high?

After tonight's (three hour, when it should have been an hour-tops) meeting (that actually could have been held via email)I now have not a doubt in my mind that my boss is on drugs. It wasn't coke. I dated a cokehead. It definitely wasn't pot. I'm voting speed, and probably some Rx ADD drug that she had a family member prescribe for her.

And suddenly, a lot of things are explained.

Tonight's behavior was absolutely inexcusable. She was rambling at 900 miles/second, incoherent, and couldn't remember something from five seconds ago. Thank god it was only with G. Monkey, who is working on design for our fundraiser, but she made 2 calls during this meeting, and at least one of those people didn't know she was this fucked up.

And I am actually so pissed off that I have passed the angry yelly phase and have gone straight into the quiet rage.

Now I understand why it has taken since November to get check copies from her. Why it takes 12 reminders to go to meetings, why I never see her, and when I do it's crazed. Why she calls me 15 times a day about the most random bizarro shit ever. Why she will never, ever get this thing off the ground, because she is going to burn through admins like so much kindling.

I shouldn't have to ask my boss repeatedly for the information I need to do my job. I sent her a really long email today, asking her again for the same shit that I've been asking for for months. Her excuse is that she's "really bad at 'that' stuff". Fine. You're bad at it. That's why I am here. "Enjoys Tedious Shit" is my Indian Name (please, no letters, I mean it in jest) I live for organizing filing cabinets. Imposing order on a checkbook is delightful. It's something I can control. I dig it. So stop with the slacking already, give me the financials, and let me do that voodoo that I do so well.

Maybe none of this makes sense. I just needed to vent, because if I don't I'm going to do something really stupid like punch something inanimate and with my luck I'd get hurt. Then I'd be royally pissed.

Also, an open letter to our accountants

Dear Accountants-

I am a salaried employee. I work in my employer's office, using her supplies, and I have a set schedule. I am materially important to the daily operating of the business (they don't call me the assistant director for nothing), and I derive the vast majority of my income from this one source. My employer deducts taxes from my paycheck on a weekly basis. How could you even fucking consider the possibility of listing me as a subcontractor and issuing me a 1099? I meet every criteria possible for a regular employee. Now take your shady, passive-aggressive, condescending heads out of your asses, and don't ever suggest that bullshit to my boss again.

And thanks for making sure we wouldn't get our tax forms until 3:30 the day that they had to be postmarked and returned to the state. I can't prove it, but I'm sure it was because Bosslady totally called you on the fact that you were full of shit on the 1099, and you lazy fucks didn't want to do a W-2 so you dragged your feet. I hate you, and I hope you're subjected to extensive IRS scrutiny. And Robin, I hope you have a particularly offensive bunkmate in jail, and he mistakenly believes you're a pedophile.

See you in hell,
Special Sauce