WOE.
I haven't updated in approx. 63 billion years. SORRY. Being assistant manager is HARD! My job used to be so simple. I sold books. I was a bookseller, a seller of books and associated items - bookmarks, notebooks, etc. It was pure and elegant. I indulged it its sweet simpicity. Now, though. Oh, now. Now I have to show up an hour before we even open and DO THINGS. And I have to stay an hour after we close and DO MORE THINGS. Now selling books is second to all the THINGS I have to DO. I have...I shudder when I think of this. I have turned into the type of person who uses 'merch' as a verb. As in - do you think those books are merched effectively? When I caught myself saying that I almost stabbed out my own eyeball. For lo, I have entered lower-tier management, and it is Bad.
On the upside, Christmas is over so I get to listen to whatever music I fucking want to again. On high rotation during shifts when I'm in charge are Riot by Paramore and PatD's album. My CCR Greatest Hits is a given just about every day, too. Sweet, sweet, power. I hoard every scrap I get, my friends.
UGH. UGH. UGH. I HATE WHAT I AM BECOMING. SAVE ME, GEEWAY, YOU'RE MY ONLY HOPE.
In actual good news, though, I have the weekend off. Tomorrow I'm heading down to St. Kilda beach to lie around in a pink polka dot bikini, listen to Frankie the ipod and read the last book of the year. Then at night I'm going out to get plastered. Huzzah! On Sunday Trav's band is playing the Art House, and I'm hoping to go see a movie. I have to fill this weekend up, because I'm working on New Years Ever. MY LIFE, SO HARD.
Ugh. I don't like Pink Grapefruit Jelly Bellys, but I keep eating them.
Oh, wow. I just read Wincest so hot it made my eyes water. HI SAM&DEAN. Don't think I've forgotten about you boys! I was gonna stay up and wait for Trav to get home but, uh, I think I'm gonna go to bed, now.
--Cheers, Beck
On the upside, Christmas is over so I get to listen to whatever music I fucking want to again. On high rotation during shifts when I'm in charge are Riot by Paramore and PatD's album. My CCR Greatest Hits is a given just about every day, too. Sweet, sweet, power. I hoard every scrap I get, my friends.
UGH. UGH. UGH. I HATE WHAT I AM BECOMING. SAVE ME, GEEWAY, YOU'RE MY ONLY HOPE.
In actual good news, though, I have the weekend off. Tomorrow I'm heading down to St. Kilda beach to lie around in a pink polka dot bikini, listen to Frankie the ipod and read the last book of the year. Then at night I'm going out to get plastered. Huzzah! On Sunday Trav's band is playing the Art House, and I'm hoping to go see a movie. I have to fill this weekend up, because I'm working on New Years Ever. MY LIFE, SO HARD.
Ugh. I don't like Pink Grapefruit Jelly Bellys, but I keep eating them.
Oh, wow. I just read Wincest so hot it made my eyes water. HI SAM&DEAN. Don't think I've forgotten about you boys! I was gonna stay up and wait for Trav to get home but, uh, I think I'm gonna go to bed, now.
--Cheers, Beck