shitty rules if you ask me

I have been offically cleared for a personal day tomorrow so I can work on my paper so the panic I mentioned yesterday is subsiding. With that bit of new found relief I spent some time making a birthday card for one of the post docs whose birthday is coming up on Thursday. I have now inherited the seat of birthday officer which means that I am in charge of keeping track of everyone's birthdays, getting the cake, the card etc. I am started a new home-made card policy, since I really doubt that I will have the tiome or the dedication to bake everyone's birthday cake like Rachael did. That was a nice touch, especially since it meant that I got to have angel food cake on my birthday. The ulterior motive behind making the cards is that it gives me a subversive means by which to stage my protests about being an adult. Yup, that's what it comes down to: I can't really blame the job other than accusing it of being extremely boring. What can I say, they treat us fair. People are nice. It's an ok place to work. That doesn't mean that I don't want feel like puking at the mere thought of being here though.

So I guess what really makes me mad is the fact that I have to suck it up and take it - like a grownup. Damnit. Who made up these rules anyways?