Some things are just a necessary evil. Shoveling snow, dentist appointments, hair removal. But I'm okay with necessary evils, I've made my peace with them. 'Cause they're, like, necessary and stuff.
It's the plain old evil evils that really piss me off: those things that are so indescribably villainous and vile that it's hard to wrap your brain around how you can possibly be expected - in modern civilization, in a free country - to be subjected to them with any sort of regularity.
Yes, I'm talking about you, Timesheet.
Dear Timesheet: Did you know I have to get drunk every Thursday night just to cope with you? You're like a Pap test or a family gathering or something, except way worse because I can avoid that shit for most of the year but you - you happen to me every week. Depending on how month-end and long weekends fall, sometimes even more than once a week - o, the humanity!
Timesheet, you nasty bastard, when you're not freezing or crashing, you're going so damned slow that I can feel you sucking the life force out of me with every passing minute. I mourn the countless hours of my precious youth that I've wasted waiting on you to decide whether you were actually going to save.
You know, if you would just come out of my computer we could settle this like men: I'd kick your ass by the bike racks then we could shake hands and move on with our lives. But instead, you hide behind your electronic facade, torturing me every week with your capriciousness. Why, you're a regular cyber-bully! I buy a lotto ticket for every draw and dream of how I'm going to leave your sorry ass and go live in the Bahamas.
Alas, my ticket for last night appears to be a non-winner, so tonight we meet again, Timesheet. You may have won this battle, but you haven't won the war!
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