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Written at 1:09 p.m. on Wednesday, Sept. 08, 2004

I think I want to crawl under a desk (with a bottle of vodka) and hide for the next 4 hours.

I have had the week from hell so far...and there are no signs of the firestorm lifting anytime soon.

And if I hear, "I'll have Tracey take care of that" one more time, I'm going to run out of here screaming...from the top of my lungs. Its fine to have me "take care" of somethine, BUT you need to give me the proper tools to "take care" of it. Dont ask me to build a house, but not provide me with a hammer, nails and instructions. I am not Noah...and I cant build the arc on wishful thinking alone.

I need to go home and sleep. I mean REALLY sleep. Deep sleep.

And everyone here needs to take a Valium...and relax. Pop a pill...take a shot...something!

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