So I just got someone in trouble at work. We'll call her Psycho-Chick, or PC for short. Now, PC had it coming, and despite my general rule that it is unforgiveable to interfere with a person's livelihood, this had to be done. I'm positive that she won't be fired, but I'm just hoping (as I've hoped fruitlessly for the last two years) that she will be transferred to another team. Of course, I was rather sneaky in my methods today and I usually support direct communication when I have a work-related conflict with a colleague. I'm not usually a tattle-tale, a run to our supervisor with my issue type of person. But PC, well, PC really IS psycho. I'm talking mentally and emotionally unbalanced. I'm talking a variety of behavioral drugs psycho. I'm talking about frequent meltdowns in meetings, office bathrooms, and in her cube psycho. What I'm trying to say if I was ever worried about a coworker coming after me with a sub-machine gun, PC fits the bill.

PC, besides being psycho, has many, MANY qualities that I just can't abide. She's a militant feminist who routinely bashes men at unbelievable inappropriate times, like meetings and conference calls. She tried to make harassment allegations against her team members (me included) for treating her "unfairly" after she was released from the mental institution (she stated that I wasn't giving her the same amount of editing work as she received pre-institution...only thing is that we were at a slow period and there wasn't enough work for ANYONE). She's a vegetarian, which is fine with me, but she feels the need to club everyone over the head with her choices, crying about pizza-lunches and the like. She sends embarassingly inappropriate e-mails to speak for our team to the entire site. When the team decides to send a birthday or a symathy card to a colleague, she feels the need to DRAW THEM HERSELF with CRAYONS and pass them around at meetings for the entire team to sign. HELLO? This isn't the second grade. It's not endearing to draw stick figures with crayons!

The list goes on and on, and no, I'm not trying to justify my own actions by tearing her down. What goes around comes around. Hmph.

So anyway, get to work again tonight at the hell-hole. Hopefully I'll make enough tonight and tomorrow night to pay my unbelievably outrageous gas bill so that I can start buying fun vacation stuff.

My food obsessions continue. Sam's grandmother buys me a subscription every Christmas to a cooking/recipe magazine (I used to think she was trying to tell me that I needed to start cooking for her grandson...but now that he's gone she still orders me the magazine...such a sweetie). Anyway, I received the latest issue in the mail yesterday and drooled all over it. It was like food-porn. My pulse was racing, my breathing staggered...I put it away because I couldn't torture myself with the images any longer. Now I understand why dirty old men need their porn. When you haven't had it in a really long time, it looks more amazing than you remembered.

Which of course, started me off on a whole new rant. I'm trying to eat well until my trip next month, so now it seems that the last of life's pleasures has been stripped away from me. There are just so many things in live that are just...mmm. They make my id happy. What are they? Well, sex of course. Then there's good food. Alcohol. Warmth and sleep. Seeing as how I'm no longer in a relationship...sex is something that I have only vague, troubling memories about. Now good food is a thing of the past. If I look at one more container of yogurt I'm going to launch it at someone. No bacon and eggs. No cheeseburgers. No pizza. No french onion dip. No Chinese Food. In fact, no dining out of any kind. And no coffee with cream and sugar. The horror! To make it worse, I've stopped drinking as well. No beer. No long islands. No jager bombs. No Mike's Hard Iced Teas.

I think I'm going to cry. Oh, and the warmth and sleep are impossible to come by as well. The high today is eight degrees. The wind chill is -12. And what with the 12 to 16-hour workdays. Sleep? Oh, that's funny!

I might as well join a fucking convent. I mean, I'm chaste. I'm sober. I'm now a sensible eater. What's next? Will my sensibilities make me quit smoking too? Then what? I'm thinking perhaps my will to live will disappear as well.

All the swimsuits in the world aren't worth eating yogurt. That's all I'm saying.