People are dumb.

Particularly folks who think that they can get over on me. Fuck that. I've seen a lot of shit in my day and it takes a pretty crafty dude to get one by me anymore.

Like this dumbass at the office, she thinks that I don't know the deal. She's the idiot in my first post, and today was her last day. We're designers and she was moving to another shop. She tried to bullshit her way into taking her computer and design table along with her to her new gig. Uh, no. Not a chance. A deal was struck to get rid of her, her new boss agreed, and today when my boss, and her boss, were out of the office, she tried to snake her killer box past the old guard dog. PWNED.

She now operates an old Compaq, half gig of RAM, and Office 2003. That's a long way from a 4GB, dual-core rocket, and Adobe CS3 with all of the updates.

Dumbass.

Yay me.

I got off my ass this morning at 4:45 and hit that treadmill and crunch machine. It wasn't an Ah-Nuld workout, but it felt good. My brain is pinging and I feel like creating for the first time in weeks. I don't hate myself today.

Fat and grumpy...

I'm tired of it. I'm not a fat man, yet here I am, fat. I don't see a fat guy in my head, but the mirror and photographs betray my fantasy. I'm waaaayyyy too heavy, too slothful, too willing to simply do nothing and call it broadening my mind, or study. I need to get moving before I die from being lazy. How will I start? I have a treadmill, so I need to get my ass onto it. I've used it once this YEAR. Once. No excuses other than the ones that I lie to myself with. This is a bizarre way to motivate myself, but I'm desperate. So, tonight, I clear the area around my treadmill and tomorrow morning, I get up and I walk. A half mile, something to get me moving. I love how I feel when the endorphins start cranking and I love how I feel when I get my muscles excited. I know how to do it,I just have to do it daily. Diet, exercise, water, less sitting around.

It's time. Do or DIE.

Tired.

The folks at work are trying to kill me when all I want do is catch my damned breath. Goddamned busy with no end in sight. Thank God that football is coming soon so I can drink more beer. For once it's not bad customers, just tons and tons of work that I'm not in the mood to deal with right now. It's usually quiet this time of year and I want things to get back to normal. Not much of a rant, but what the hell. I need a beer, and some private time with my sexy wife.

Fucking CafePress

It seems that the company that myself and many others have poured many hours into doesn't give a rat's ass whether we're successful or not. Whether our bills get paid or not. Whether our shops stay or go, get rich or go broke, or not.

The new Volume Bonus setup is staged to fuck the best shops out of all of their SEO and hard earned money that they would have made during the election and the Christmas holidays. They tell us for months and months to gear our work toward enhancing the CP marketplace. Then they make it so we can't gain part of our hard earned reward, at a point where it's too late in the season for us to change our election/holiday plans. Assholes.

Zazzle and my own domain will get the bulk of my upcoming sweat. CP can blow me. Fucks.

I work with idiots....

Well, it's about to be one less fuckwit.

Description of a fuckwit: Having a job that you were never qualified for, making more than you ever have, doing very little, having the freedom to come and go as you please, doing artwork all day long. Then you fuck with your easy-going boss about one of your minor duties so much that he transfers you to a section where your new boss is someone that used to stalk you. Never poke a badger with a spoon.

Oh, and even better, this new gig will totally expose how little you know about what you've been doing the past eight years. Enjoy your new 8-5 schedule, slow computer, moronic peers, and your stalkerish, Chinese girl obsessed boss.

Dumbass.