Point. Click. [dammit, need to reload].

Yes, Swarmy, your job is hellisher than mine. Doesn't mean mine doesn't suck, yours just sucks more.

Boss: How do I cancel this print job?
Me: I usually walk over and hit the button.
Boss: Which button?
Me: The one on the printer that says ON/OFF.

He's currently muttering and basically kicking an electronic dead horse. "It did it again! It popped up the thing, and then it went away!"

Look, Commander Numbshit, if it printed just fine to the fast, cheap, big printer when I walked you through it two minutes ago, why do you insist on trying to print to the slow, expensive one? It's not like I don't jump up and take the printouts to you when they come out by my right ear anyways. . . . that is, when you're not interrupting the major yet pointless undertaking I've got sitting on my desk to have me do even more pointless and menial shit, like clean a work area that's remaining unused or typing a bit of correspondence that you're perfectly capable of typing yourself.

"Where the hell are those pages I just printed out?"
"I gave them to ____. He's the one you were printing them out for, right?"
"Um, Okay. Thanks."

Even when I'm reading his mind, it pisses him off. Thank god the other guy here is bored and aggravated enough to be willing to do the extra-menial stupid work of reformatting essentially meaningless information, so I'm free to do such lovely things.

Maybe Swarmy is on to something, staying all night - the boss would be gone after hours. The downside, of course, is that I have no idea what the fuck he's doing; presuming, for a moment, that he has the slightest fucking clue.

In other news, I like having sex. I like pizza. And Miller High Life is substantially better in bottles than cans.

An aside:

The pointless Cut & Paste document I was just told to put together already exists. The boss has been looking at it for a week as a word document that was created by cutting and pasting the exact same seven HTML documents into one thing.

He refuses to believe that because the raw html was 134 pages, and the reformatting I spent last week doing to make it play nice with his dipshit layout knocked it down to a hundred and two.

Why put it in html? So it's _searchable._ You know, the same "searchable" that Word lets you do with Ctrl-H.

I'm willing to lay odds he doesn't notice they're the exact same fucking thing, and either loves it, or gets pissed at me for omitting something.

Hello, Boys

"Work work work work work work. Hello, boys, I've missed you."
- Gov. William J. LaPetomaine

No more work-bitch from me. It's stupid.

I could bitch about the nerf inflicted on my SW:G character's profession and the fact that the servers are offline during my preferred low-stress gaming time [before work, so as not to take excessive amounts of time away from spending with aishlynn] for at least this week [jackasses!].

Or I could shut the bloody hell up.