Happy Birthday To Me.

It was a crappy day, it was a crappy, crappy day. I had come down with a terrible sore throat, and occassional sniffs. The nite before had started wonderful, when my school chum, Abby came down to KL for training and I had spent the nite bunking in her hotel room. We caught up with each other's news. Who's she dating, who is who's dating, who is doing what etc. Throughout the nite, I began to experience the worst ever feeling since I dunno when. I huddled under the blanket, half asleep and half awake. I had a nightmare. I dreamed I was screaming myself hoarse at someone for being mean to me.

'You think I do this on purpose, you scum, you bad-mouthed me behind my back and you expect I could take it just like that??'

I woke up feeling like someone had rubbed the grittiest sandpaper on my throat until it felt raw that it was hard to swallow.

I was late for work because the housekeeping staff took her own sweet time delivering the iron, and bloody KL road, confusing me. I had to make a detour to reach somewhere familiar. Like I need another reason to be 'happy' today, huh, I thought darkly.

Work was well, work. Bloody Business Development people. You want a good product, give us something worthwhile la, how can you expect we deliver you gold when you give us crap? Like crap. I felt like jumping off the building. I was that exasperated.

Me: Your boss wants us to put how many bloody parking bays we'll have.
Chairman: Or you can manually count the parking bays.
Me (totally gave up): Whatever, just give me something. Why can't you be decent to me on my birthday? I have a crappy day you know?
Chairman: (mumbled something I can't hear)
Me: Yeah, whatever.

In the afternoon, I went in two presentations. They were like, *unspeakable stuffs*.

Trump to me: Anything you want to comment?
Me (rubbing my burning forehead, and feeling my throbbing temple): I like the music, you know, but it's like, disjointed. I felt something was not explained, the link was missing.
(2nd presentation)
Trump to me: Anything?
Me (shrugged in surrender): No.

Then, there was the time out zone, when I went for aerobic for half an hour. Then finally sitting here, staring at the monitor.

It could be any other day. It could be last year, or last month, or last day. But it had to happen today.

Under my breath, I sang tunelessly, 'Happy Birthday to me, happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to...' at this point of time, I saw an incoming email from a passenger with a long, long list of questions which looked familiar. '... crap.' Don't they ever read the FAQs? Why the fish head curry do I bother to prep a FAQs page if nobody bothered to read it???

I think I'd better go back and sleep until next year.

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