“Why does this team love starting the day with so many meetings, and while on camera! Like who in their right mind wants to be on camera by 8:00 am?” I murmur under my breath, having woken up late, with just enough time to apply passable make-up, fix the front of my hair to hide the rat’s nest in the back, and throw on a collared button down shirt, although I now notice that I failed at aligning the buttons. Looking down at the boxers I slept in (an excellent and comfy pair I “borrowed” from the most attractive man), I frowned at the long leg hairs, which have grown past the point of “ehh, I can do this later” and have reached the point of, “this is going to be a hell of a lot of work”.
“Fuck me, such a mess,” I expressed with a sigh while reaching for my mug of coffee, my hand missing completely since I hadn’t had the time to make any.
“FUCK ME, and FUCK this stupid call with this BITCH-ASS manager and all these DICK-HEAD staff, and FUCK this job! I hope this project goes up in flames, and all these cretin clients can crawl back into whatever nasty little holes they crawled out from!” I am not a morning person.