Food and Mold.

Good Morning.
I think I'm psychologically traumatized about my job. Seriously. I got up this morning, got ready to go to work-- and even got to the train station, and turned back around and went home. As soon as I got into the car, my stomach started hurting. I felt nauseated, and I seriously almost puked. So I had to go home, wait an hour or so, and then came in late. This happens more frequently now than ever before. I think it's since we've determined our food allergies that I've been really in tune with the way I feel after I've eaten. Yesterday we went to the beach for the day and I ate an entire bag of cotton candy. I'm not even kidding. Then I came home and wanted to throw up.

Anyway. I'm at work now. I got in, and I could hear the familiar buzz of the fucking blow dryer in our CEO's office. There were a swarm of personal assistants or whatever you want to call them, doing her makeup and hair. Are you fucking kidding me? If I was rich, I would definitely have someone doing my hair and makeup, but I would do that shit at home, in private. That way, nobody would know what a shallow bitch I was.

And, this morning, I also saw her going into the bathroom. The shared bathroom. Shouldn't she have her own special bathroom or something? When I got out of college and had that job in the engineering company, the CEO had this huge office, and a custom bathroom with a shower. He didn't have to share with any of the peons under him. Ever since I saw that, I think it's strange to see any of the higher-ups having to use our ugly little bathroom. It just ain't right.

I started doing some work, but then got sidetracked. Do you know that in a company of 1000+ women, we are the most disgusting people on the planet? We have this kitchen area on my floor and we have one refrigerator. This is normal. What's not normal is the sheer nastiness of the refrigerator. Since I work in this industry, I work with women who only want to eat salad. There are about 400 bottles of various fat-free dressings in the fridge, along with all kinds of strange organic vegetables and fruits. Now that really isn't the problem. The problem is that when you open the fridge, you're hit with the smell of rotting organic fruits and vegetables, and when you try to go in and find what you've put in there, your hand brushes against soft, sticky, moldy old fruits and vegetables. They don't clean it. Ever. And the skinny ass cosmetic bitches who work here don't take their shit home and leave it to rot. You wouldn't believe the number of people who make their own salads for lunch. At any given time, I can roll up to the kitchen and see people cutting up their own fresh-from-the-garden beets and parsley and putting what they don't use that day back in one of the crisper drawers. I bet there is toxic mold in that fridge. I bet it's just contaminated with all kinds of food-borne illness. Thank God I don't have to use that one anymore.

In any case, I'm tired and feeling sick, but I have to work on writing these instructional sheets for our makeup. I'm so embarrassed to have to write these, but since our company is pretty flowery and girly, I have to write them using an alternate personality.

I have to forward some of my best work to you. You are going to laugh SO hard.