There are Machiavellian shenanigans going on here at the office. Think “War of the Roses”. I am going to go mad, mad I tell you! I cannot give a proper vent to my feelings on the person who is causing me such ire, but I tell you that the treatment I currently have the pleasure of receiving is like being forced to line dance while wearing a diaper full of broken glass. I wake up knowing that the only thing on my plate are cold lima beans. So, to the individual who is daily urinating on my cake, I say Fick dich du verdammter Arschloch! Deine Mutter ist ‘ne Hure!! Lutsch Schwanz in der Hoelle! Stirb! Stirb! Stirb! Maybe it is time to consider a new career. Meaning, *a* career. As luck would have it, I am in the midst of negotiations for a portrait commission. If all goes well, I will be jetting off to Berlin in a matter of weeks, to make two paintings, pocket some Euros, and have a bit of Spaetzle and vacation.
For now, I am going to go outside and scream at traffic.
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