Saint Dirty Face

by Saint Dirty Face

Monday, why you doin’ me like this?

The workload wasn’t even bad, but the time?

Dragged. Like. A. Dead. Body.

By 3 PM, I was a pinch away from illegal substances just to keep one eye open. But whatever. Here’s your Monday SDF rant, freshly microwaved and served lukewarm:

The lobby? Packed.

Back-to-school chaos.

Like a flash mob of parents suddenly remembered their kids exist.

They just kept coming—forms, shots, last-minute panic—and, of course, there’s always that one Karen who finds a reason to complain.

Lady, I swear to God, I will jab you in the eye with a paperclip and a prayer. 🤪

Lunch came and went and nobody even noticed I was still here.

But honestly? Too tired to even care.

I just rolled around the office like a half-dead Roomba with a vengeance.

Thank God my chair has wheels—I slow-rolled to the restroom like a boss.

And then…

Zoom meeting. Final hour.

All for the mystical promise of a potential extra paid day off.

Will it happen? Who knows. But I’m riding that hope like a drunk cowboy on a mechanical bull.

Today’s verdict:

SLOW. SUCKY. SNOOZE FEST.

Might actually go to bed early tonight…

Because I’m this close to mainlining my energy shot through a Capri Sun straw.

Till next time,

Saint Dirty Face says:

Stay loose. Stay wet. 💦