frustrated

My thanks to Jivency for being my middle man. His quiet demeanor masks my frustration for me.

If it weren't for him I swear I would have strung my supervisor by the neck, thrown him from the 6th floor, drag him back up and gleefully repeat it over and over and over and yelled my bloody head off at his sheer stupidity and thickness and idiocy and everything else besides that I can throw at his direction.

Think of it: He refuses to acknowledge my emails (he claims he doesn't receive my emails; FINE. Don't receive my bloody emails.) On our first meeting he speaks at me with unnecessary superiority as though I'm some dumb mute cattle. That smugness, that defiance to admit my position, that response of not caring two hoots what I've done, that BLOODY CHEEK OF TELLING BLOODY ME MY BLOODY PROJECT CANNOT BE TAKEN UP when its crystal clear that its of a sufficient size.

But hey I'm no idiot, I don't need that kind of shit. Don't treat me like one. Disrespect me and you'll receive in tenfold in return. I kind of wonder how bad it's gonna get around. I don't care for his wheezy 90-year-old voice, his lack of greasy hair, his construction-worker looks... It's just..

Loathing, unadulterated loathing,
for your face, your voice, your clothing
Let's just say - I loathe it all
Every little trait, however small
Makes my very flesh begin to crawl

With simple utter loathing
There's a strange exhilaration
In such total detestation
It's so pure and strong!

Though I do admit it came on fast
Still I do believe that it can last
And I will be loathing, loathing you
My whole life long!

-Wicked, "WHAT IS THIS FEELING?"

Enough, enough.