Office Life

Day 120. 131 pages, 60,186 words.

Well, today is the day of my arbitrarily shifted deadline #3. And no, I didn’t make it, although I’m close. Okay, so let’s bump it to 130 days and see what shakes loose.

Hey, this is new territory for me. It’s quiet at work this week so I’ll probably even have some time to write notes during spare minutes, as well as trying to do stuff on my phone during the commutes.

So quiet, in fact, I’ve mostly been watering plants and tweeting about it today.

Nothing more to report. Weekend was fun, ish. Lots of sleeping, a bit of a cruise into town with the girls on Saturday for a “Pokémon event” whatever that is … I got to level 9! And I got some medals! And I learned all sorts of things, like what eggs are for and where to get more pokéballs! I don’t know. Ask Wump. Frankly I think just adding “poké” to the start of a word doesn’t make it a thing.

Then on Sunday we went to the water park in Flamingo for, seriously, the last time. Fucking fascists who work there. I’m done giving them full-price ticket money when I’m only allowed to use half the fucking services with my daughter. Stay out of my face until I’m literally drowning and I need CPR, you cunts.

I sent them a nasty feedback form. I’ve decided to embrace my inner dissatisfied consumer. What’s the point of being a heterosexual white man between the age of 25 and 45 if I can’t demand shit?

Anyway, that’s basically my Monday.

About Hatboy

I’m not often driven to introspection or reflection, but the question does come up sometimes. The big question. So big, there’s just no containing it within the puny boundaries of a single set of punctuationary bookends. Who are these mysterious and unsung heroes of obscurity and shadow? What is their origin story? Do they have a prequel trilogy? What are their secret identities? What are their public identities, for that matter? What are their powers? Their abilities? Their haunted pasts and troubled futures? Their modus operandi? Where do they live anyway, and when? What do they do for a living? Do they really have these fantastical adventures, or is it a dazzlingly intellectual and overwrought metaphor? Or is it perhaps a smug and post-modern sort of metaphor? Is it a plain stupid metaphor, hedged around with thick wads of plausible deniability, a soap bubble of illusory plot dependent upon readers who don’t dare question it for fear of looking foolish? A flight of fancy, having dozed off in front of the television during an episode of something suitably spaceship-oriented? Do they have a quest, a handler, a mission statement, a department-level development objective in five stages? I am Hatboy.
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