(no subject)
So, I have a job. Ooh ahh, tremble tremble.
It's complete shit. And no, not just because I'm a lazy pig-eyed sack of crap that doesn't like to do anything that involves getting out my wrinkly ol' jeans... or my bed. It is complete shit for the following and totally legitimate reasons:
1. My boss is a crazy nutter who would sell you the shoes off her feet if it would make a sale.
2. Yes, she has done this.
3. I have to open and close the store after about... 10 hours of work experience. By myself. Alone.
4. I am being paid a "training rate", which was never mentioned or discussed upon my being hired, and the kicker is I am training myself since no one is ever around.
5. I don't get paid every week. I don't even get paid every two weeks... NO.... no, no, and no. I get paid ONCE A BLOODY MONTH. I ask you...
6. People in Beverly Farms have a silver spoon shoved up their collective asses.
7. I never get out on time.
8. My boss is constantly on the phone coddling her maladjusted boarding school brats. Half the time my parents forgot I was even around, and I turned out alright. Relatively.
9. I invariable end up drinking myself to sleep when I get out of work.
For these, among other reasons, I might quit pretty soon... after I get paid. For my month of indentured servitude.
AT ANY RATE... on to more pleasant business.
Dr. Dog is playing at Endicott next Thursday. For free. Which is odd and awesome.
The Reverend Horton Heat on Saturday. Bought a cute outfit. Am excited.
Going home for Thanksgiving. Will be nice to eat actual food. And to compare Rev. shows with Jenn and Pedro.
Sweet Maria's birthday cake for yours truly. Asked to have skulls on it instead of those lame roses. Possibly flaming skulls.
Suzanna, we're having our dinner on Friday if you're interested in some cake! And some MacAulay madness.
It's complete shit. And no, not just because I'm a lazy pig-eyed sack of crap that doesn't like to do anything that involves getting out my wrinkly ol' jeans... or my bed. It is complete shit for the following and totally legitimate reasons:
1. My boss is a crazy nutter who would sell you the shoes off her feet if it would make a sale.
2. Yes, she has done this.
3. I have to open and close the store after about... 10 hours of work experience. By myself. Alone.
4. I am being paid a "training rate", which was never mentioned or discussed upon my being hired, and the kicker is I am training myself since no one is ever around.
5. I don't get paid every week. I don't even get paid every two weeks... NO.... no, no, and no. I get paid ONCE A BLOODY MONTH. I ask you...
6. People in Beverly Farms have a silver spoon shoved up their collective asses.
7. I never get out on time.
8. My boss is constantly on the phone coddling her maladjusted boarding school brats. Half the time my parents forgot I was even around, and I turned out alright. Relatively.
9. I invariable end up drinking myself to sleep when I get out of work.
For these, among other reasons, I might quit pretty soon... after I get paid. For my month of indentured servitude.
AT ANY RATE... on to more pleasant business.
Dr. Dog is playing at Endicott next Thursday. For free. Which is odd and awesome.
The Reverend Horton Heat on Saturday. Bought a cute outfit. Am excited.
Going home for Thanksgiving. Will be nice to eat actual food. And to compare Rev. shows with Jenn and Pedro.
Sweet Maria's birthday cake for yours truly. Asked to have skulls on it instead of those lame roses. Possibly flaming skulls.
Suzanna, we're having our dinner on Friday if you're interested in some cake! And some MacAulay madness.