Oh my God I don’t want to vent.
Oh my God I don’t want to vent.
I have to vent.
You know, I know someone from college who’s blogging now and getting very popular. I’m happy for her; she’s good people and a good writer. In the past I might have thought, “You know, I need to publicize my blog on FB and Google. I need to get more commenters and followers!”
But actually, I’m happy in my little corner of the ‘Net, with my small army (really small) of readers, and my Russian and Polish spammers. привет!
There are a lot of people that don’t need to know what I write.
I am about at my wit’s end, but I have to pretend I’m not. I know, it’s not that bad. I always say, I could be a child in China making Nikes for $4 a year, or whatever. Really, I do say that.
I don’t make enough money. Not for my skill set and education. I figure it’s the new world order, and I need to deal with it. My PTO program is a joke of epic proportions; it barely gives you a week of vacation a year. I used to get three. Or was it four? I forget. And I know, those people working in the sweatshop for Zara in Argentina. No, seriously, did you read about that? Kind of makes you think about not shopping at Zara. Not that they’ve ever had anything in my size.
But I digress, as usual. I just find it hard to be in a room with two people I would rather not be in a room with. One is a lump and the other has narcissistic personality disorder. I mean it. Okay, maybe not completely, because you know I wiki’ed that shit today. But when she gets in a Red Bull induced rager, every thought in her head has to come out of her mouth.
I can’t think straight. It’s hard to work. You have to learn to type and listen to her at the same time. I have. But it’s tough. When she doesn’t feel like working, she doesn’t. Just shuts down and spins around in her chair like a toddler. And the talking. Every song that comes on must be sung, or reminds her of her psycho stalker ex-husband. In a good way. Derp?
Don’t get me started on the music she plays. Kids, I would rather listen to Schoenberg than LMFAO. And Rascal Flatts. And Maroon 5. I would! Then there’s the Flo Rida. Pure shit care of our fair state. I’m not surprised.
I didn’t put my music on today because I wanted to keep the peace. I think the Radiohead upsets them. People, it’s just The Bends, it’s not like I have Amnesiac in the iPod! I’m not playing my Tom Waits’ CD. I only have one, actually. The soundtrack from One From The Heart. I fucking love that movie.
I think I’m better. Just writing it down (and getting up and down, and eating some pure Cacao chocolate chips, and removing my nail polish, and eating and cleaning up a huge pile of cat puke) makes me feel a little better. I have to get it out. I hated my job at Barnes and Noble, and all I wanted was a quiet desk job. Well, I got it, but with some extra special benefits. I think it’s time to get off my ass and find a teaching position. Although a former BN co-worker and friend did, and after a year she’s had it. So there’s that.
I just don’t know what I want to do with the rest of my life.
In other news, today is honey’s birthday. And I’m taking him out tomorrow. Which would be my dad’s birthday. So there’s THAT.
In positive ending news, here is a pair of earrings I ordered from a Scottish Etsy seller. Just got them today:
The shop is called SilkPurseSowsEar and I love them.
And also mes enfants are on SNL tomorrow, and I could die with joy.
Thomas Mars, J’Adore! Sometimes, I pretend I am Sofia Coppola…oh dear, I’ve said too much.