I can’t. Fuck this day, you guys.

I hate my joints and these cramps are making me want to rip out my spine. Also I reaaalllllly hate needles and the idea of one inside my knee is making me want to scream and run for the hills.

And then, this meeting at work today. “This data is useless!” Uh, maybe you should tell that to the person who prepared the samples and/or designed the experiment. Spoiler alert: neither of those people were me. A polished turd is still a turd, you know?

Can this be, like, Ticked Off Tuesday or something?