Nothing goes down smoother than bottled anger

I am used to being the surliest guy on the cake. But recently, someone at work seems to be taking more than that person's share of the frosting.

I haven't snapped at any anyone in weeks. Maybe months. The poacher of my surl beats me to the punch every time. Then I get all confused and go up to the snappee later and say things like, "What the fuck was that about? I wouldn't let anyone talk to me like that." Since when do I side with the innocent?

Well, I've got a foolproof plan for tomorrow: I'm wearing normal work clothes. Collard shirt, slacks, clean shoes and maybe, just maybe, a belt. Not wearing sweatshirts and pajama bottoms always pisses me the fuck off. I'm a copy editor for criminy's sake. Cleaning up nice ain't something we know shit about. So I'll be coiled and ready for the first person who makes eye contact with me for more than my comfort zone of a half second.

And fuck forbid anyone ask me to do actual work.