Fuck this place.
I noticed that myspace now has a JOBS module (thingy). You can search for jobs... Thanks, myspace. Remind me how much I hate my fucking job. Remind me AGAIN...as if I didn't already think of this enough...er, every second of my life.
Presby just spent a half-hour coughing all over the fucking place. (I can't say the word "fuck" enough right now, so please bear with me.) He's coughing right this moment. He's not covering his mouth. Shit flies out of his throat. What's worse, anthrax turning up in mailed envelopes, or Presby preparing your external UK phone bill, hacking and gagging all over it, then mailing it out? I hate him more than any living being besides the president, including varmints and creepy-crawlies (neither of which actually gross me out). I mostly hate sounds and/or concepts. For example, the sound of someone clipping their fingernails in an inappropriate place (such as the office) sickens me. The concept of someone pulling a tooth out of another's mouth makes me ill. The thought of grabbing hair out of the drain makes me gag right now just thinking of it. I hate Presby more than all these things. He's coughing right now and not covering his mouth.
He had a doctor's appointment yesterday. Today he shared with us that he had an irregular heartbeat. I hope he dies from it. I know that's a terrible thing to say, but it's really not when you consider that I hate him more than any living being besides the president. I mean, for him to even make it to my "hate" category is pretty bad, for I don't hate many living things.
Anyway, I haven't done a goddamn thing today at work. I listen to my sweet Balkan playlist composed of Taraf De Haïdouks, Koçani Orkestar, Tom Waits (not Balkan, hehe), Kultur Shock, a compilation called Gypsy Beats & Balkan Bangers, Balkan Beat Box, and Mahala Rai Banda. This music makes all the hateful feelings inside me subside a lot. I may be getting dependent on it for its antidepressant qualities.
Presby just spent a half-hour coughing all over the fucking place. (I can't say the word "fuck" enough right now, so please bear with me.) He's coughing right this moment. He's not covering his mouth. Shit flies out of his throat. What's worse, anthrax turning up in mailed envelopes, or Presby preparing your external UK phone bill, hacking and gagging all over it, then mailing it out? I hate him more than any living being besides the president, including varmints and creepy-crawlies (neither of which actually gross me out). I mostly hate sounds and/or concepts. For example, the sound of someone clipping their fingernails in an inappropriate place (such as the office) sickens me. The concept of someone pulling a tooth out of another's mouth makes me ill. The thought of grabbing hair out of the drain makes me gag right now just thinking of it. I hate Presby more than all these things. He's coughing right now and not covering his mouth.
He had a doctor's appointment yesterday. Today he shared with us that he had an irregular heartbeat. I hope he dies from it. I know that's a terrible thing to say, but it's really not when you consider that I hate him more than any living being besides the president. I mean, for him to even make it to my "hate" category is pretty bad, for I don't hate many living things.
Anyway, I haven't done a goddamn thing today at work. I listen to my sweet Balkan playlist composed of Taraf De Haïdouks, Koçani Orkestar, Tom Waits (not Balkan, hehe), Kultur Shock, a compilation called Gypsy Beats & Balkan Bangers, Balkan Beat Box, and Mahala Rai Banda. This music makes all the hateful feelings inside me subside a lot. I may be getting dependent on it for its antidepressant qualities.