Monday, January 23, 2006



Now I'm back at work, and the constant depressed narcolepsy of this weekend looks pretty good in retrospect. I've got a million things to do, and of course no help to do it. Don't they know I just want to lie in bed and be left alone?

Our accountant is making me conference call the IRS with him this afternoon. I yelled at him that I am just the assistant, and have no say in these things, but he says I have to anyway. Then, after I told him about twenty times that I can't authorize payments, he says, "well, you'll have to tell them whether or not you're going to pay it. You need to pay it." I don't need to do jack shit. I don't sign the checks, and I'm sure as hell not taking any sort of financial responsibility for anything in this zoo.
I mean, really... I get that we have back-taxes due since 2003, but not only is that not actually my job, I wasn't even working here then. Give me a break. Bug my boss.

So, yeah, nobody cares if I am grumpy and tired and want to beat up the world. Apparently, I have to do my job (and then some) anyway. I find that highly disagreeable.

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