Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Dammit.

So ten minutes ago, I was cleaning my turtle bowl. Since I never took a picture of it, use your imagination... It's one of those giant champagne looking cups, but as big as a punch bowl. Well, kinda. Anyway, as I was scrubbing the thing in the sink, the bowl exploded and broken glass cut up my left hand. Now it's still bleeding. I'm not really upset about the fact that my hand got cut up (although I am), but mainly because the turtle is now living in a temporary plastic bucket. Not just any plastic bucket, but a white plastic bucket... meaning the turtle can't see what's going on outside unless he looks up... which is a white ceiling.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Bitch and whine and stuff.

My back is still hurting from two weeks ago. I hate going to practices and just sitting around, but I also hate after doing something then the back pain kicks in. I think I need a massage.

I've been lacking sleep. I even lacked sleep this weekend. I think I should do something about that. It's doing me no good. I feel asleep at work today sitting upwards while I was pretending to read documents, and I swear I had a dream going. And that was only like 15 seconds deep. Then the phone rang.

I almost broke my wrist last night. But I didn't. So it doesn't count. So I shouldn't have typed this paragraph.

It's almost time to car shop again. That means I need to cough up a shitload of money (that I probably don't have) to down payment.

I need more money. Like more more money. Like more than now, times five or six. Or seven, but then I would sound greedy.

Semi-conversation worth mentioning:
Her: "I suck at maff."
Me: "And English."
Her: "What?"
Me: "Huh?"

An asian lady on the phone today said she wanted to "double confirm" our office phone number when she called. Double check? Or confirm twice?

My right index finger tip hurts. So I'm clicking the mouse with my right middle finger.

My turtle hasn't been eating for the past couple days. I suck at having a pet. All the food I put in the bowl is sinking.

Two and a half more months till vacation. And I think I know where it's heading.

My new pet peeve is when I'm in the elevator and I finally reach the floor I'm trying to get off at, the door opens, and people walk right in before the door opens all the way and before they even see that there's people trying to get out. I just want to be like, "Bitch, let me get out first." Then end it with a "...Motherfucker." And then press all the level-buttons before I get out.