Meetings

Oh meeting time, oh meeting time

These hours I deplore

To sit and listen to people who

Wish to hear themselves some more

Oh meeting time, yes meeting time

These hours I can't stand

To know there's nothing you can do

But listen to the man

And sit and stare

And hope to see

The hot new girl

Who's dressed in pink

Or sit and draw

Play on my phone

New bubble-breaker record

Of 804

Oh meeting time, oh meeting time

There's nothing you can do

Oh meeting time, yes meeting time

I guess that I am screwed.

I fucking hate meetings. Sorry mom, I really shouldn't have used that word. I motherfucking hate meetings. The past two weeks I've had to sit through over eight hours of them a day and it's beginning to turn me into a terrible person. Typically I start my days just tired and grumpy and crescendo into considering increasingly harsher crimes, beginning at the simple assault of elderly women and getting much worse as the day progresses. A few years ago I began trying to combat these feelings and attempting to make these hours more useful by drawing pictures and writing poems or songs. Unfortunately they usually take the tone of the grandmother beating psychopath I described earlier. I'll try to share some more of the better ones in the next few weeks.