Crumbs. It's like the entire advertising world has decided to drop a bucket of crap all over my weary shoulders. Today, 2005 officially started. Between stoopid brochures, press articles, five by-lines for promotional items and courses, adverts, an A-Z booklet, a presentation and other corporate documentation, I am completely swamped. And pissed off. Some of the stuff is for re-doing, because some incompetent idiot didn't do it right the first time. And I'm not taking about a one pager, I'm talking throng and throngs of dicuments that completely need a revamp. It's like everyone wants a piece of me, all the bloody time. "Please just do this, please just do that," THERE IS NO TIME FUCKERS! The moment I start something, my in-tray gets a fresh dumping of new stuff. It's like I;m in this little bubble of hell. Phones are ringing off the hook, and I swear I'm about to kill the next person who asks me how to spell something. I'm a copywriter not a dictionary people. (It's called SPELLCHECK.) Cheese and rice. Then I have to go home and make dinner. Then I have to pretend I'm in a good mood. Because my other half has also had a bad day apparently. Sometimes I just wished that I lived in a fucking jungle on some lost island where I all I had to do was pick berries and make fire for my livelihood. On top of this I'm fat. I have bad hair. And it's only fucking Tuesday. Better go. That bloody in-tray isn't going to empty itself.