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17 January I swan, New Chick At Work is driving me CRAAAAAAZY!!!!! How stupid or obstinate do you have to be to alphabetize proper names by first name? And how anal-retentive do you have to be for it to make your head explode?
I think its punishment for being obsessive-compulsive.
My futon frame is really busted. It's like sleeping in the letter "V". Not entirely comfortable, but not entirely crippling, either. The point is, though, that I will be unable to buy a new frame for simply ages, and I don't want to go back to sleeping on the floor. It's like more devolution (are we not men?).
You know what I hate? I hate when telephone salesmen ask how you are. 'Cause it sounds as though they are really really really really really really interested in how you are. Really. When you know that they really couldn't give a tinker's fuck.
An extraordinary number of journalist have returned from the dead in the past couple of days: N. Spaceman, Meghan, Emily, and Gage!!! Hooray!
One year ago today:
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