Usually I don't think of eating my delicious McFatass, I mean Mcdonal's meal as an epic experience. That is until you put me at a desk, in an office, at a plasma center. It is at that moment that I am eating Mcdonalds, like a boss. The gloriousness of how much being at a desk (in an office) adds to your everyday activities. Today I worked on my 20 page homework packet for summer school, which usually makes me think "I'm so fucking pissed that I'm a lazy piece of asshole who couldn't finish an assignment, or come to school, and must now earn my shitty ass credit during my goddamn ass nipples summer" That's right. My ass-nipples summer. However on this day, this day that my mom brought me to her workplace, Talecris Plasma, I feel like a boss while filling out my degradingly stupid packet.
When I finished my packet I put my head on the desk that had amplified every other activity to find that I was dozing off, like a boss.
- I'm typing a blog like a boss because of the professional desk I am at complete with office supply oragnizers, and phone with 3 blinking red lights and 1 consistant light, post-it notes reminging the man who usually uses this desk to re-schedule something or other and to request blahbitty blah. Apparently Greg doesn't feel like a boss in this desk because he writes like a child...
- I emptied a PAPER SHREDDER, a badass office-level paper shredder
- I am smiled at by MOST of the employees because they know, Hey, the boss's kid, yeahh she's a boss.
- I drew a unicorn on my mom's whiteboard that is shitting her name with a thing next to it that says "Word of the Day: UNICORN: mythical horse/narwhal creature
On a side note I was directed into the staff lounge by my mom, I approached an employee that I'd never met before to ask where I could find a drinking fountain to fill my cup (One of those double layered ones that prevent condensation for people of a boss-like status) and was immediately turned and shoved into the other direction to be told that the door says "for authorized personell(sp?) only" to which I quietly mumbled "but I'm Jen's kid" and the woman immediately directed me back into the staff lounge and showed me where the fancy culligan water dispenser was. Would you care to know why? Because you don't fuck with a boss. So I filled my cup nervously, just WAITING to be yelled at by somebody who didn't know who I was. Mind you I did look like somebody who would be donating for weed money. Outfit: Black tights, Draven shoes, hydraulic shorts, a drug-rug from Ragstock, and a beautiful amount of fluffy hair, held back by a mexican-made headband. Stoner Swagger.
I also was afraid of the lounge after that and decided to use the sub-par donor bathrooms to relieve myself, never again. I would rather hold my urine than be yelled at or pee in the donor bathrooms. And If you're not familiar with what a plasma center is, it's where people go to give plasma in exchange for money. The plasma is turned into helpful drugs, the money is turned into bad drugs by the druggies. Basically what I am saying is that there are a lot of sketchy mcsketchertons in the old plasma center, but if I stay in the office while gawking, I am safe. Because it is FOR AUTHORIZED PERSONELLE! and I don't care if I spelled that wrong because I AM A MOTHERFUCKING BOSS.
And I may end up posting more blogs because I'm bored, like a boss.
Hi I'm from never ending story. Imma rape pigeons
and I smoke pot, that's why I'm a Jaundice mix of a cow and 3 unicorns, with harlequin ichthyosis. It was a wild sex-party. Still don't know who the father is.