*Crystalline* My Face Is Really Hot Right Now.
Holy fuck, paid accounts get 30 userpics now...I'll get on that this weekend. Also, probably some serious alterations to the layout. I saw it on our laptop and I'm all WTFingFman.
*sigh*
I'm reaching my limit at work. The drama is ridiculous. The staff, or most of them, are like children who've been on the playground together for too long. They can play nice for ten minutes before they crack--and then it's wet sand bombs and monkey bar hell.
Furthermore, they're shy of direct confrontation. People, including myself, are getting bitched out through office email because of warped third-party accounts. No one pursues the truth; they readily accept stories from people who've no idea what they're saying. The victim is left with few options: 1) let the issue drop and pretend to accept the chastisement, 2) approach the nefarious email sender (which in itself may exaggerate the issue), 3) go to the director, who generally has nooo handle on the drama.
I just want a job where I can focus on the books, see very little of select staff members, and go back to my real life. Why am I being dragged into this? I don't mind complaining to friend-coworkers on occasion, just a bit of that hilarious bond-forming gossip. Yet that's all conversation's been lately, and never mind any solutions or coping methods.
I think people are afraid of making things worse. I know I'm unsure of what to do...going to my supervisor, who is the head director, could be a bit much? Is it an overreaction? How could I possibly summarize the events and their consequences of the past few months?
Seriously...where's my projectile vomit icon...?
So spring break is a break in name only and I may be asking for some time off from work. I find the craziness very amusing, but up to a certain point. Now I'm about to go fucking book-hurling zombie when I need all my energy/sanity for school.
Nrghhhnn.
I watched Howl's Moving Castle to quench the RAGING INFERNO OF I'M-GONNA-KILL-YA-ALL within me...but it didn't really work. Instead, I'm getting pissed that the movie came as tralala 2-dvd set and the only thing that's on the second disc are the storyboards. Thus, Borders feels justified in jacking it up to $30. I did grab it for $20 on its release day, and I believe Target maintains that price, but @#^%*#!!! Corporate America, I hate you!
1:04 am
Just moments ago, my friends, the toilet overflowed.
I flushed, went downstairs, and by the time I returned to its vicinity, the toilet had begun its encroachment on the hallway carpeting. Yes, yes...meaning, the bathroom floor, with all its mats and furnishments, was awash. I stood, thinking weird thoughts, like "I'm not a fucking pirate" or "Haha, I didn't know that potpourri was so durable"...
Then I lifted the porcelain lid and yanked its innards. Then I thought about Megan and her demon pipe. Then I realized, "Hey, I can't find the plunger and I can't seem to fix this." So I started screaming at my inert parents to please get out of bed and save the bathroom.
My mom did get up and was, thankfully, not enraged to see the mess. It took some crazy plunging (I have no clue why. All I did was blow my nose, toss the paper in the toilet and flush.), two bathroom mats, and nine large towels to soak up the water.
I was for waiting, but mom wanted to get the wash going, which leads to me to conclude that we're going to die. Our washer of late is wack: it loses balance on its spin cycle and starts moving around the room in clanging leaps. Therefore, we'll go to the sleep, the washer will eventually reach its spin cycle, bound into the heater and explode the house into an incinerating fireball. Being ash sounds pretty groovy, so...goodbye! Please mix my ash with my manga ash and throw me in David Bowie's backyard.
*sigh*
I'm reaching my limit at work. The drama is ridiculous. The staff, or most of them, are like children who've been on the playground together for too long. They can play nice for ten minutes before they crack--and then it's wet sand bombs and monkey bar hell.
Furthermore, they're shy of direct confrontation. People, including myself, are getting bitched out through office email because of warped third-party accounts. No one pursues the truth; they readily accept stories from people who've no idea what they're saying. The victim is left with few options: 1) let the issue drop and pretend to accept the chastisement, 2) approach the nefarious email sender (which in itself may exaggerate the issue), 3) go to the director, who generally has nooo handle on the drama.
I just want a job where I can focus on the books, see very little of select staff members, and go back to my real life. Why am I being dragged into this? I don't mind complaining to friend-coworkers on occasion, just a bit of that hilarious bond-forming gossip. Yet that's all conversation's been lately, and never mind any solutions or coping methods.
I think people are afraid of making things worse. I know I'm unsure of what to do...going to my supervisor, who is the head director, could be a bit much? Is it an overreaction? How could I possibly summarize the events and their consequences of the past few months?
Seriously...where's my projectile vomit icon...?
So spring break is a break in name only and I may be asking for some time off from work. I find the craziness very amusing, but up to a certain point. Now I'm about to go fucking book-hurling zombie when I need all my energy/sanity for school.
Nrghhhnn.
I watched Howl's Moving Castle to quench the RAGING INFERNO OF I'M-GONNA-KILL-YA-ALL within me...but it didn't really work. Instead, I'm getting pissed that the movie came as tralala 2-dvd set and the only thing that's on the second disc are the storyboards. Thus, Borders feels justified in jacking it up to $30. I did grab it for $20 on its release day, and I believe Target maintains that price, but @#^%*#!!! Corporate America, I hate you!
1:04 am
Just moments ago, my friends, the toilet overflowed.
I flushed, went downstairs, and by the time I returned to its vicinity, the toilet had begun its encroachment on the hallway carpeting. Yes, yes...meaning, the bathroom floor, with all its mats and furnishments, was awash. I stood, thinking weird thoughts, like "I'm not a fucking pirate" or "Haha, I didn't know that potpourri was so durable"...
Then I lifted the porcelain lid and yanked its innards. Then I thought about Megan and her demon pipe. Then I realized, "Hey, I can't find the plunger and I can't seem to fix this." So I started screaming at my inert parents to please get out of bed and save the bathroom.
My mom did get up and was, thankfully, not enraged to see the mess. It took some crazy plunging (I have no clue why. All I did was blow my nose, toss the paper in the toilet and flush.), two bathroom mats, and nine large towels to soak up the water.
I was for waiting, but mom wanted to get the wash going, which leads to me to conclude that we're going to die. Our washer of late is wack: it loses balance on its spin cycle and starts moving around the room in clanging leaps. Therefore, we'll go to the sleep, the washer will eventually reach its spin cycle, bound into the heater and explode the house into an incinerating fireball. Being ash sounds pretty groovy, so...goodbye! Please mix my ash with my manga ash and throw me in David Bowie's backyard.