This week was the Ass, and I was the Wedgie.

I've been fairly angry all week. Don't worry, I won't go into it here. You don't care and I don't feel like sharing. However, WARNING: This might turn into an angry blog.

Today was my last day in my department. I will be moving into another gig in my company and far, far away from Douche Nozzle, the guy whose work I've been doing for the past 6 months. I'm as excited as a blonde with two dildos.

Let me tell you the shit I won't miss about this guy -

* I won't miss his disgusting Philly accent.
* I won't miss that gorilla mask on his face he calls a goatee
(gorilla mask: when a person shaves their pubes & glues them to a sleeping persons face.)
* I won't miss the, "I love you...I love YOU...No, I love YOU more" whispers on the phone to his equally hideous, shovel-faced girlfriend who has a complexion greasier than a truck stop kitchen.
* And most of all, I won't miss doing his work, then watching him get presented with a pseudo "Employee of the Month" award.

Believe me, while I have a great imagination, even I can't make this shit up. He was presented a $100 gift card and a pat on the back two weeks ago by our Regional President for how great he was at the job I was doing. I was dumbfounded. I mean, SERIOUSLY?! Who do you have to blow in this place to get recognition, because obviously this lazy turd whipped out a few Chapsticks and knee pads to get his sweet deal.

(Deep breath) But that is all behind me. It's over; The fat lady has sung and I no longer have to suffer through him (or his work) again.

I have a feeling there's going to be some crazy celebration in my house tomorrow night - just me, some wings, a 40 of Miller High Life (don't judge) and Battlestar Gallactica. Yeah, I'm badass. And you can admit it: Man or woman, you've got a crush on me. I get it. Whenever I shave my legs, I have a crush on me, too. And if I wash my hair that same night? Sweet Jesus, I can't keep my hands off myself!