exactly one half of my business trip went ok. one half of it was fun and beautiful and refreshing. precisely in the middle of the day of the middle day of my trip, the world turned to bullshit…and continued exactly up until the moment i set foot back in my apartment.
i never want to stay in hotel 71 ever again, so long as i live. whether or not i’ll get to stick to this choice, however, is entirely up to my job. but seriously? fuck.them.so.hard. FUCK. THEM. fuck the hotel, fuck the staff, fuck the desk, fuck the managers, fuck p. reggio, fuck p. smith, fucking FUCK hotel 71. i have…literally spluttering with rage and just so stressed. i mean, i had a lovely time with the office folk and in the office and working, but fuck man. i didn’t go for fun i went to work and the stress nearly killed that.
because of all the bullshit the last two days of my trip were just so completely fucked up and the only bright spot is that my bank fucking rules. god bless you, US bank. they put the hotel in its place and fixed everything. which like, rent is due fucking soon, right? so i can’t afford to be out $730 because of some hotel douchebag’s ultimate fuckup. seriously, at one point i was going to have absolutely no money to even get my ass home from the airport. niiiiice.
also, why is it that every time i fly somewhere my trip is not complete until the airport and airline have collaborated to completely demoralize me and eat my fuckin’ soul? WHY!?!?
- on my trip this week the following has happened to me at the hands of airport/airline employees:
- my bag has been searched (thus clothes unfolded & icky people touching my stuff)
- my flights have been canceled
- my bag has been sent somewhere without me
- i’ve been yelled at by a retard
- my stuff has been rifled through and my possessions taken away
- i’ve been searched & felt up by TSA assholes
i am not a happy camper, that’s for damn sure. all i want is for the o’hare airport to fucking BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRNNNNNN! and burn and burn and burn and also be peed on.
when i get that angry, i can’t even see straight breathe straight fucking function. i hate it, i hate feeling out of control and powerless or just used. i hate hate hate hate fucking hate everything about it.
just, fucking fuck it all, man. it gives me headaches even thinking about it. and the only thing that made my day not suck balls was getting home to a surprise package (shot glasses i ordered over 2 years ago that the post office dicked me out of) and awesome crackers the boy picked up for me. also: cigarettes. thank god.
seriously, thank god for cigarettes.
and the boy.
that is all.
