9-5

Don't get me wrong, usually I have a lot of fun writing these rants. But this week I just haven't been into it, which is dumb because this just happens to be the week when I've had a flood of ideas. See, I've been covering for a 9-5 guy at work this week and by the time I get home, all I want to do is jack off, take a shit, and go to bed. 9-5 is balls, I tell you!

Seriously, I've done the 9-5 thing before and every time it makes me completely understand why people go postal. Here's why.

-I hate going to bed when I'm not ready for bed. I'm not one of those people who can say, "Damn, I have to wake up at 4:30am. I better be in bed by 9 or 10." I go to bed when I'm tired or too god damned shitfaced to retain consciousness. If I force myself to go to bed, I lie awake until I'm actually tired and fall asleep. The voices in my head are seriously entertaining though.

-I hate waking up to repetitive electronic shrieking saying "Fuuuck...god damn it" over and over and over.

-I hate that it takes me 2 hours to commute to work, driving or taking public transit. Fucking horseshit. Either way, it's 2 hours of my life I'm wasting along with hundreds of other morons. Wow, I just had a brilliant idea. Just now. I'm going to donate my entire paycheque each week to any top-notch scientists who are working on teleportation. If they can get me from my house to my work instantly without all the fucking brake lights or subway transfers, they deserve some funding.

-I hate the fact that I'm actually required to shower and change my clothes every day. Are you serious?! What the fuck is this crap?!

-I hate dealing with bitter co-workers. I guess it's not entirely their fault, I mean, they work 9-5 and probably have been doing so much of their lives. I'm friggin' 23 and I hate everything about 9-5. How do these people feel at 55? I guess I can't blame them. But still. I just wish they were as optimistic about everything as I am.

-I hate being the most awesome person in the office. If any co-workers happen to be reading this, honestly, return to your offices. I don't need people constantly asking for a signed photo and I really have no use for the daily office parades you throw for me. Look, I'm really blown away by the fact that you made a golden chariot for me to ride in while a tall, white stallion pulls me down the hallway to my office. But the seat is a little too lumpy and one ass cheek always rides lower than the other and it feels weird. Like I might be curving my spine inappropriately. I mean, I'm flattered, but with my salary I can't afford a chiropractor.

I guess that's about it for now. I can't wait until next week when I don't have to work 9-5 and I can show up to work piss drunk every day. Unless...

Also, the answer to the title is four. Four...
As in "Four...the love of God, man, get yourself a fucking girlfriend already."



UPDATE: Literally less than a minute after posting this I discovered I beat Listman to a topic. I'm so fucking awesome!