I'm Not Dead (What Happened to The Deathy Times)

I'm fully aware of the devastation that has resulted from my becoming overwhelmed of late. Sadly, I have been legitimately occupied ALL DAY at work for the last few weeks, and bonafide responsibility has kept me from updating The Deathy Times on a regular basis, as was my habit there for a while. This begs the question, how in the name of God did this happen to me?!?!

The reasoning for this miserable life development is twofold...and really not miserable...but kind of.

First, I should explain my job. I work at a place that gets shit done...we're basically the best at what we do (which I will not explain, as I know this blog is likely to be faaaamous one day, and my anonymity will only make it more intriguing to its massive following at that time). We have a shit-ton of clients, and they love us and we make their lives better, so they give us a large portion of their dollars. The client that I work for is brand new to my company, and I was brought on when they came (so there's not a single seasoned relationship in the mix). Anyway, that was back in the middle of July...and on the 1st of August, the client's whole staff went on vacation for an entire month. Needless to say, this was the cause of my utter lack of responsibility during August--a freedom which allowed time for regular Deathy Times updates that have stopped abruptly since. Now that they're back, this client has plenty of work to go around...sometimes even more than we can handle...and The Deathy Times was the first poor soul to be strangled by said work.

Second, and now that you have an understanding of the nature of the beast, you should know that my Beauty School Dropout semi-boss was looooooving our lack of responsibility and of stress back in August. Sitting in her office, looking at the pictures of her vomitrocious boyfriend that she kept on her desk, on her cell phone, and as the background of her computer, listening to Celine Dion on her iHome with a candle lit, and generally being worthless and uneducated struck her fancy just like a turkey leg at the state fair! Note: I'm going for a trashy image here...you know...state fair, jean skirt, white haulter top that exposes a little midriff, hair pulled back with gel, belly button pierced, holding a turkey leg...this is how I imagine the semi-boss behaving outside of work. Anyway, as soon as the rest of the staff came back and the workload picked up (read: came into existence with the firey burning passion of a thousand motherfucking suns), she was a little shocked. SO...she left. I'm told that she marched into the HR office and said that our client was simply too much and that she wanted out...preferably before 12 noon the following day. That may or may not be true, but regardless, her wish was granted. I semi-believe it...and I say good riddance you retard. Thanks for...well...nothing. See ya never.

To make her departure even sweeter, I was promoted to her job, and I will be helping to choose the poor sucker that will soon take my former position. In the meantime though, I have the workload of two poor suckers, and I therefore don't have hours at work to spend creating brilliant descriptions of my life and the lives of those walking clusterfucks that I call my friends.

I do have many life updates though, beginning with those you were promised nearly two months ago (family 90th birthday party, the day I cried in a hair salon, and something else I currently can't remember). We will move from there to the day I tried to answer the door to pay for pizza with no clothes on, my family trip to San Francisco, things that have become popular in the world since I last addressed you all, and the fact that I had a birthday (and Perfect Love Interest's mother told me that I'm nearly of an age where I probably once thought I would have my life together). She was right both that I used to think that and that I'll likely be nowhere close for quite some time...I mean Jesus...I can't even update my own public journal on a regular basis, what was I possibly thinking when I used to tell myself I'd be successful and married by 25?

Anyway...more to come...eventually.