Betsy, you don't care what stupid people think, and these are supremely stupid people.
Spike's Bitches 24: I'm Very Seldom Naughty.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Betsy, remember: 100 years. All new people.
Hell, JUNE -- all new people.
Betsy, people are stupid and they suck. New job will be better.
Did your Chaste Moon arrive?
No reason to care what stupid people think.
ION, I have a pool table in my house. It is very pretty. I'm wondering how much the sound of clanking balls will disturb my sleep.
Yes, it arrived last night! Thank you.
And they aren't going to discover I was an imposter after I left, right? The real people, the not-stupid ones, aren't going to hate me?
Betsy, they are a stupid, annoying, and frustrating team. You don't care what they think, and you won't have to be stuck in meetings with them anymore.
Thanks.
::thwaps self::
-t, how many bookshelves do you folks have, anyway?
Sigh. Not enough.
Alameda" always makes me think of Chekhov in that Star Trek with the whales looking for "nuclear wessels" there and the people are all "WTF?"
DH mentions "nuclear wessels" whenever Alameda comes up in conversation, or there's a sign for Alameda on the highway, or thinks of the existence of Alameda. Every time.
Betsy, your soon to be ex-co-workers are of so little importance I can't quantify how little you should care what they think. The real people are going to realize your awesomeness.
Pool table, yay!
Hey, all.
Today has been kind of of the suck, and ok. I went out with my friend last night for drinks -- and we got wasted. Toasted, pie-eyed, hammered, you name it.
I woke up at her place with a raging hangover, and remembered barfing over her balcony last night. I NEVER get sick, and rarely have hangovers. It was the THREE SHOTS at last call that did it. Ugh.
Also? Pulling out of the parking lot, I hit a median and got a flat fucking tire at 3:15, and didn't know until we got back to my car about 45 minutes ago if I had a spare or a donut. It was a spare, but I've been freaking out about it all day. AND I had committed to picking up a friend's husband from the airport at 3 today, so after nursing out respective hangovers, S. and I did that.
She is a VERY GOOD FRIEND.
However, I got a call from Nordstrom today asking me to set up a time for an interview! Woo and hoo! Cosmetic job, which would be fine for the summer, esp. since my BF works at the Clarins counter at Nordies.
I am freaking exhausted.
EDIT: Oh, and my booty call never called back. I'm not calling him again. If he's interested in my carcass, he can pick up the fucking phone and call me.