Where your taxes are going...hey--don't blame me!

So, anyone that knows me is aware of how much I hate my job. Well, I suppose it's not the job per se, but more or less the ENVIRONMENT. The people in my little six-person office are usually somewhat tolerable. I actually really like some of them. But working for the AF is not exactly stimulating work for someone with a noggin so damn full of creativity with no place to use it. And colonels and generals typically have giant hairs across their asses. Not all of them, but most.

I have had countless droves of folks telling me how exciting my job sounds. "You work for the AIR FORCE?!?!?! Like, oh my GAWD! That sounds like, so COOL!" Yeah right. Kiss my ass. Spend a week here. In this office chair. At this desk. You'll have put a bullet in between your eyes by close-of-business, Tuesday. Then tell me how "cool" it is from your casket, bitches.

Let me run through a typical workday for Karen:

Approx. 0730-0820: (That's military time, kids. If you're too stupid to put two and two together and figure out military time, just off yourself now. Or look it up on Google. One of the two.): Get into work.

0820: Go to bathroom. It's been an hour-long ride at least. Longer in winter. I need to go.

0823: Get back to my desk.

0824: Realize I forgot to fill up my electric teakettle.

0825: Pick up teakettle. Go to bathroom. Fill with water. Return to desk. Plug in said teakettle.

0827: Watch water boil.

0828: Fill Las Vegas mug with International Foods powder coffee (I like to call this "pussy coffee" because my stomach can't really tolerate the real shit).

0830: Water is boiling. Fill mug with water. Stir powder coffee.

0830-0840: Look at full mug. Wait to drink said coffee because electric teakettle always makes the water too damn hot.

0840: Drink coffee. Ponder suicide. Doze off for nap numero uno.

0900: Wake up only to realize I had a Military Affairs Council meeting at 0800 that I needed to attend. Subsequently realize I don't give two hairy shits.

0903: Military Affairs Council chief calls to tell me I should have attended the meeting. I stick my tongue out at the phone receiver and say in ever-so-polite phone voice, "It will never happen again, sir."

0905: Ponder suicide.

0927: Pee. Return to desk.

0930: Check craigslist--one of the few websites to which the Air Force gives us access.

1000: My boss asks me to type a letter because he types with two fingers. He claims the letter is very long and will likely take me quite a while. He chuckles, knowing in his mind he will keep me busy for many moons.

1010: Letter typed and reviewed. Submit letter to boss for approval. Boss is in shock and awe that I "type so fast."

1012: Pee. Return to desk. I've already washed my hands so I might as well eat something random in my desk. Maybe I'll have some marshmellows today.

1015-1120: Read Boston Herald. Laugh at the ridiculousness of said publication. Wow. Angelina looks pregnant again. Who gives a fuck? Brad gave her a fuck, apparently.

1120: Eat brown-bag lunch (I'm trying to save money, kiddos).

1215: Pee.

1220: Go back to desk.

1221: Ponder suicide.

1250: Check craigslist.

1315: Pee. Return to desk.

1320: E-mail everyone I know the most ridiculous stuff I can find online.

1350: Check Boston.com. Read ridiculous posts with such titles as "Share your worst job experience EVER!" Instantly feel better after reading about people who took jobs as pig farmers or NYC strippers just to "get by."

1430: Check craigslist. I may have missed something.

1445: Doze off for nap numero dos.

1500: Awaken. Look at clock. Big hand on 12. Little hand on 3.

1551: Doze off for nap numero tres.

1610: Ponder suicide.

1630: Post annoying posts on craigslist looking for "Hot and handsome men--600 lbs+ ONLY!" in the pets section. Laugh as all posts get flagged.

1631: Check-out time. And look! One minute overtime! Schweet!

So, with a few exceptions, this is my day Monday-Friday. Granted--there are some days I work a fair bit, so I exaggerate a LITTLE. And then there are other days when my boss comes into my office for "story time" and asks about how drunk I got over the weekend and whether I got laid or not. After I reveal every detail of my personal life (mainly out of joy that I have someone to talk to), he then proceeds to tell me of his (maybe if people are good, I'll post details about this in a later post).

I'm done for now. Besides...craigslist awaits.