"This Is Me Expressing Myself"

I should really take a picture of myself right now... in plaid pajama pants, an old Chi O t-shirt, my hair in a ponytail and a HUGE FUCKING MARTINI in my hand. Then you could get an idea of how much I can't deal with my job. Which I just got home from... at midnight. I think I'm twitching. Or, I was. My glass consisting of three shots of straight liquor is kicking in. Everything will very shortly be aaaaaaall gooooooodd.

I always say the day I quit my job, I will totally pull a Jennifer Aniston in Office Space. In the movie (one of my all-time favorite quotable movies, by the way), she is a waitress who works in a TGI Friday's sort of place where she's required to wear fifteen "pieces of flair" on her uniform. In an early scene, her manager pulls her aside, saying, "We need to talk about your flair," and berates her for only wearing the minimum number of stupid pins on her vest, when her lame dorky co-worker has 37 pieces. "You don't want to be a person who only does the minimum, do you?" he asks. I really, really, really identify with this scene. I'm not about to be one of those bloggers who talks about her job-- I've never actually said where I work (wearing sunglasses in your photo totally makes you anonymous, right? right?). But. I'll just say I get it.

In Office Space, the scene where she finally snaps and storms out of the restaurant is one of my favorite parts of the movie. Her slow-talking corporate-bullshit-spewing manager pulls her aside again, and says, "I still only see 15 pieces of flair. What about our talk? Don't you want to express yourself?"

"You know what?" she says. "I do want to express myself. And I don't need 37 pieces of flair to do it." And she flips him off, right in his face. "THIS is me expressing MY SELF. I hate this job! I hate this goddamn job and I don't need it!"

Let's just say I came dangerously close to "expressing" myself tonight. But I have $150 in my pocket, a giant martini on my desk, and two days off. I'll cool down. For now.