That's awfully cute, Aimee!

I'm not allowed to buy anything more in Hanna 70, as we're already overflowing, and--let's face it--her wardrobe winds up looking like a Hanna catalogue shoot 6 days out of 7. And that one day is one where I choose something non-Hanna for her. Because of Hanna overload.

[link]

Well, I just (very briefly) met my new office-mate. She seems nice enough. Her eyes didn't widen at the sight of me, nor did she take a step back or run screaming.

Yay for tolerable-sounding office-mate, Jilli.

Yay for S being home, Sean!

Coping~ma, Tom Scola.

{{lisah}}

{{vw}}

{{{{{All da Bitches, on general principles}}}}}}

**I preface this post by stating that I am pro-union, I htink they do some very much-needed good and if it hadn't been for the U.A.W., my fmaily would have straved during the 80's when my dad was laid off more than he was working.**

That being said, dealing with them in my job, currently, they are A PIAN IN THE ASS.

(could I transpose anymore letters in that psot? I tihnk otn.)

hee, Aimee.

I think I am going to post like that from now on. Or, at least attempt to and maybe the end result will be properly spelled wrods.

One of my teachers posted this during the first week of class -

Cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh? Yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt!

But really, what would you rather read? It's interesting, but not convincing.

Feel free to skip if you're tired of hearing the same thing over and over again. Although this one is kind of new!

My mom called to berate me about my job situation, saying that I'm just being jerked around, and if they really wanted to make me full-time, they would have done so by now. She's still unhappy that I got an apartment before definitely having a job.

"Don't worry," I said.

"I'm your mother," she said. "Who else is going to worry? Do you have anyone else who worries about you?" Because she is the ONLY PERSON IN THE GALAXY WHO CARES ABOUT ME.

"Many, many people," I said, to no response.

She told me I should start applying to other jobs; this wasn't the only job. What happened to all my big talk of "Everyone's going to want to hire me, they'll come looking for me"? I was going to turn 25 next month, and look at me! When was I going to make something of myself?

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, and I just said, "I don't need to hear this."

She said, "What?" I repeated myself. I don't remember her specific response.

She went off on me for not consulting anyone and making decisions for myself. When I decided to drop the Ph.D. program, did I talk to her or my dad? No, I "just" dropped it. Because I think I'm better than everyone.

"How can I think that when you keep putting me down all the time?" I asked.

She said she wasn't putting me down; she was just giving me the reality. But she wasn't putting me down. She kept telling me to do things, and I never did them. Why didn't I give her a reason not to "put me down"? Why didn't I tell her one good thing I had done?

Did I call my relatives like I was supposed to? Did I call her?

"I don't like talking to you because I get this all the time," I said.

"Fine," she said, "then don't talk to me."

"Maybe if you said something nice about me once in a while."

"Fine," she repeated without listening, "then don't call me," and hung up.