After spending about two hours fiddling with background images, color wheels and graphics, I've managed to make this site look like a fucking corporate nightmare. Hmpph. I hate not knowing anything about html or image hosting or design. I can't stand to look at this page at all. Heeeelp me.

A girl at work hates me. Why? You ask. How could anyone hate you? You're the nicest, most nonconfrontational person I know! You exclaim.

I know. I know. It was hard for me to accept too, but the truth is, SOMEONE DOESN'T LIKE ME. There. I said it.

I've suspected that she doesn't like me for a while now. If I smiled at her when we passed in the halls, she'd ignore me. If we were trapped in an elevator together and I tried to make small talk, she'd answer tersely. She'd be walking down the hall with someone, and he'd say hello to me. She'd stare at the wall behind me.

Yeah. It's that kind of petty shit.

But to be fair, I've been known to be paranoid about this sort of thing ( I know. You never would have guessed it, right?) so I chose to believe I was imagining it. Yesterday I received confirmation.

Goddamn it. I just spent 20 minutes trying write what happened yesterday, but it's too difficult. I'll boil it down for you: I was assigned one of her documents to edit, and I had questions for her. She barged into my cube, arms crossed, lips pursed and said, "Esemjiwhatquestionsdoyouhave" without looking at me.

The whole encounter went downhill from there. It's too long to explain, but it was very clear she was irritated with me. Her manner was extremely condescending and rude. She never made eye contact with me. She talked over me when I asked the questions and interrupted me when I spoke. It was pretty fucked up, in a passive-agressive way.

Finally she left. I sat at my desk for a second, staring at the floor. I think I felt pretty stung. I tried to think of what I could have done to offend her. I couldn't think of anything. I tried to think about how I could smooth things over. Yeah, I know. But that was my first instinct.

Then the anger kicked in, and my thoughts were like this:

"Fuck you, you fucking fat-ass cunt! Are we still in high school, or are we professionals? Who ignores people when they say hello? Who fucking does that past the age of 16? How dare you barge into my goddamn cubicle like you're so fucking important? And you know why I had so many questions for you? Because you CAN'T WRITE FOR SHIT. I can't believe you even made it through college, you fucking desperate whore. That's right, I see you flirting with that frat boy idiot. Why don't you get down on your knees and suck his dick already and get it over with? I mean, shit. Could you be any more obvious? If you're going to be a bitch to me, fine. FINE. I hope you can take it like you can dish it out, because IT'S ON. IT'S ON."

Funny, huh? I was so pissed, I felt my face go all hot. I was pretty worked up.

And then, as soon as the anger came, it went. I felt calm and relaxed.

It was so zen.

"I'm going to show her how to be a professional," I decided. "I'll do my work and deal with her like I deal with anyone else. I won't be friendly, but I won't be rude. She'll be the one who looks like an ass, not me. I won't participate in her catty games, and whe will know that she is beneath my notice."

...

But if I ever catch her outside of work, she's gonna get SMACKED.