Canada Day Long Weekend

Dear Diary,

It's only 10:00am and I'm dying to leave the office and go home. It's the long weekend and I have plans. I don't know what the rest of these doofuses have to do here, but I have a life. Hello, everybody else here, get a life and start living. This anticipation is killing me. Okay, I said Happy Canada Day to like fifty people already. I ate the red and white cake. Let's go!

I just puked the red and white cake into my cubicle trash bin. I had a ginormous hunk of it, and it didn't sit well, being as I'm bursting with excitement about the long weekend. Oh, and I was twenty minutes late for our meeting with head office yesterday, and everyone is kind of giving me the silent treatment. Here's what went down:

Our meeting room was full with all our staff and five serious looking suits from head office. Charisse was really sick with the Norwalk flu but she was told by Sheila, our boss, that she had to come to the meeting anyway. It was that important. Anyway, I came in from an impromptu extended lunch (not my fault, read previous diary entry), and Charisse was yakking into a brown paper bag and the suits were talking some serious business about how we can all be better at what we do by being more punctual, yada, yada, jabba jabba yada yada. I hadn't even sat down yet and already I was falling asleep.

Everyone went on talking and talking, like I hadn't just walked in late. Next thing I knew, someone was shaking my elbow, real hard, whispering, "Dude, you're snoring." I looked up, and everyone was staring at me weird, as saliva dripped from my chin down to the table. I wiped the sleep from my eyes then, and burped. A big, long, raucous burp from my Top Taco lunch. That's when Sheila told me to leave the room. And that's when I asked, "What did I do?"

"You leave this room now," she reiterated, murderously calm.

"All right," I replied, nonchalantly.

Everybody went back to their stupid meeting. They soon saw me through the glass of the meeting room as I picketed the hallway outside with a handmade sign, chanting, "What do I care! My boss isn't fair! What do I care! My boss isn't fair! I had a doctor's appointment. I almost died. My doctor needs tweezers to check it all out."

My sign read, "This place sucks! Bigtime! I hate this place! Oh yeah, that's an understatement, if ever I heard one."

Sheila was soon out of the meeting room, calling me into her office. Once she shut the door behind us, I immediately offered, "I'm sorry if I made you look bad."

SHEILA: Are you kidding me? I have a good mind to call security.

ME: You're the second person who's told me that today.

SHEILA: What is wrong with you?

ME: I just hate that I disappointed you by being late.

That's when I broke the picket sign over my knee, and got a little teary-eyed.

ME: You're fair. I'm sorry.

Sheila just stared at me, speechless.

SHEILA: Are you ready to come back to the meeting?

ME: Can I just stay in here and nap? With the door shut and the lights off? And maybe you guys could be a bit more quiet with your little meeting.

SHEILA: You're coming to the meeting now.

I started bawling then. I don't know why. And I bawled all through the meeting too. I just didn't want to be there. This is Canada. And we're forgetting what Canada is all about. Hundreds of years ago, we didn't suffer through cold winters, with no food, no blankets, and wild animals attacking and eating us just so we could sit in boring meetings all day where I have to keep pinching and biting myself real hard just to stay awake, blood streaming down my chin and people calling me gross. Diary, always remember that. Happy Canada Day!