GENERAL UPDATE: Part one
I never want to post notes on Facebook because they won't let me post .gif files. And .gif files are an intergal part of my self expression. ALLOW ME TO PRESENT AN EXAMPLE:
THIS .GIF REPRESENTS MY DESIRE TO WATCH GOSSIP GIRL WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY BEING DAZZLED BY A CRAZED VEGETARIAN VAMPIRE. NICE HAIR EDUARDO.
School.
I KIND OF LIKE SCHOOL AND GETTING SCHOOLED.
There is usually a length of time during any given semester of mine when I realize I really hate French. This generally takes up around 95% of the semester. The other 5% takes place at the end, and it consists of me loving French and being amazed I can actually speak more. I then ride this high until the next semester, when I realize I was BEING A FOOL. A FOOLISH FOOL. WHY WOULD ANYONE MAJOR IN A FOREIGN LANGUAGE? WHY OH GOD WHY?
So, that's school.
Work.
Let me just put this out there. I think my semi-boss (let's call him Bevin) is a decent human being that maybe could shower more often, but hey. That's his prerogative. Whatever. He's a good boyfriend and a good friend.
That being said, he sucks as a boss.
I guess I have this strange concept that if you work at a place, you should actually do some work. Like,for instance, maybe serve a customer or clean up after yourself. However, I have learned from Bevin that to manage any place, all you have to do is sit on your computer in the back or go and take 20 minute long smoke breaks and you can still be called a manager*.
AM I GOING TO HAVE TO CUT SOMEONE?
*He does work sometimes. I'm probably misdirecting my rage from customers. I'm a bad person. FORGIVE ME EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE.
Family.
It seems that 3/4 of my living grandparental until is on the verge of dying and I'm really not okay with it nor have I come up with a healthy method of coping. I don't want my grandpa to die without saying something to him, anything. I don't even know what needs to be said. Oh Lord Jesus. And the thought of my dear sweet Grandma in a nursing home, where anyone could abuse her, makes me sick. I can't even type anymore. I suppose I'm saying I need someone to pray for me. So there's that.
I CAN COUNT ON Y'ALL TO WATCH MY BACK! YAY!
OH NO
I need to go to bed. Must go to work crazy early tomorrow and maybe actually be on time and have everything ready. Corporate is coming tomorrow. I'M SO HAPPY I CAN GET RETRAINED OR SOMETHING. YAY.
MAYBE SOMEONE WILL ORDER SOME ORANGE FRAPPEWHATEVERS AND THEN GO HAVE A GAS FIGHT!
I dub this part one. I still have lot of .gifs. Peace out babies. ILU.
THIS .GIF REPRESENTS MY DESIRE TO WATCH GOSSIP GIRL WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY BEING DAZZLED BY A CRAZED VEGETARIAN VAMPIRE. NICE HAIR EDUARDO.
School.
I KIND OF LIKE SCHOOL AND GETTING SCHOOLED.
There is usually a length of time during any given semester of mine when I realize I really hate French. This generally takes up around 95% of the semester. The other 5% takes place at the end, and it consists of me loving French and being amazed I can actually speak more. I then ride this high until the next semester, when I realize I was BEING A FOOL. A FOOLISH FOOL. WHY WOULD ANYONE MAJOR IN A FOREIGN LANGUAGE? WHY OH GOD WHY?
So, that's school.
Work.
Let me just put this out there. I think my semi-boss (let's call him Bevin) is a decent human being that maybe could shower more often, but hey. That's his prerogative. Whatever. He's a good boyfriend and a good friend.
That being said, he sucks as a boss.
I guess I have this strange concept that if you work at a place, you should actually do some work. Like,for instance, maybe serve a customer or clean up after yourself. However, I have learned from Bevin that to manage any place, all you have to do is sit on your computer in the back or go and take 20 minute long smoke breaks and you can still be called a manager*.
AM I GOING TO HAVE TO CUT SOMEONE?
*He does work sometimes. I'm probably misdirecting my rage from customers. I'm a bad person. FORGIVE ME EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE.
Family.
It seems that 3/4 of my living grandparental until is on the verge of dying and I'm really not okay with it nor have I come up with a healthy method of coping. I don't want my grandpa to die without saying something to him, anything. I don't even know what needs to be said. Oh Lord Jesus. And the thought of my dear sweet Grandma in a nursing home, where anyone could abuse her, makes me sick. I can't even type anymore. I suppose I'm saying I need someone to pray for me. So there's that.
I CAN COUNT ON Y'ALL TO WATCH MY BACK! YAY!
OH NO
I need to go to bed. Must go to work crazy early tomorrow and maybe actually be on time and have everything ready. Corporate is coming tomorrow. I'M SO HAPPY I CAN GET RETRAINED OR SOMETHING. YAY.
MAYBE SOMEONE WILL ORDER SOME ORANGE FRAPPEWHATEVERS AND THEN GO HAVE A GAS FIGHT!
I dub this part one. I still have lot of .gifs. Peace out babies. ILU.