apparently I am a raccoon
Sep. 17th, 2005 09:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7This was Z's conclusion. It took me three damn soda refills to eat my dinner. I'm like a raccoon, I guess. I don't have much saliva, or something?
Dunno.
I am still in a toweringly foul mood. Nerve in my back still HURTS ME DAMMIT. I barely scraped 15% in tips today and I totally got my ass kicked and I felt like hell all day, as did the other waitress on my register so our mutual misery rebounded off each other into towering funks of bitchiness which couldn't help but poison the entire atmosphere. Urgh it was awful.
And I HAVE TO GO BACK THERE TOMORROW. KILL ME NOW.
Grr. So stupid. It was just a stupid day. Why is it that my bad moods seem to come in, like, fuck, at this point it's like a 3-week stretch? And yet my good moods are like, two hours? Fuck.
Z suggested that the solution is angry poetry. The best thing I could come up with was just repetitions of the F-word over and over. He said I was pretty close to what he'd seen in the coffee shops.
****
I composed the above and then didn't post it.
This morning I went to the DMV to get my motorcycle permit. Dave's buying Visvalda the Scooter on Monday. He needs to get his license, via the super-expensive Motorcycle Safety Course, wherein they'll teach him how to drive the thing, and then I can get my license more cheaply via him teaching me.
I didn't get my permit because the DMV's Internet connection was down-- construction workers had accidentally severed their fiber-optic cable completely, and they were estimating three hours before the connection came back. I was simultaneously terrified and impressed by the woman who administered my driving test, who managed to keep a queue of about eight or nine people straight in her head and dealt with all of us in an absolutely calm and efficient manner even when some people were being a bit retarded. (Like the guy who never figured out that she was giving him an eye exam. Like, he just couldn't figure out why she wanted him to read line eleven. She was thoroughly unimpressed with him, but the tiny shake of her head after he left was the only sign she gave.)
Anyhow. She was awesome, and I must say, I have always been impressed with the workers at the DMV every time I've gone. The place may be a nightmare (Erie Co.'s budget cuts mean that there are only two DMV offices in the entire county, which is among the most populous of New York State, and the other one is closed on weekends), but the workers are always tremendously efficient.
I had a bunch of other stuff to talk about, which is why I didn't post the entry last night, but by now I've forgotten.
Dunno.
I am still in a toweringly foul mood. Nerve in my back still HURTS ME DAMMIT. I barely scraped 15% in tips today and I totally got my ass kicked and I felt like hell all day, as did the other waitress on my register so our mutual misery rebounded off each other into towering funks of bitchiness which couldn't help but poison the entire atmosphere. Urgh it was awful.
And I HAVE TO GO BACK THERE TOMORROW. KILL ME NOW.
Grr. So stupid. It was just a stupid day. Why is it that my bad moods seem to come in, like, fuck, at this point it's like a 3-week stretch? And yet my good moods are like, two hours? Fuck.
Z suggested that the solution is angry poetry. The best thing I could come up with was just repetitions of the F-word over and over. He said I was pretty close to what he'd seen in the coffee shops.
****
I composed the above and then didn't post it.
This morning I went to the DMV to get my motorcycle permit. Dave's buying Visvalda the Scooter on Monday. He needs to get his license, via the super-expensive Motorcycle Safety Course, wherein they'll teach him how to drive the thing, and then I can get my license more cheaply via him teaching me.
I didn't get my permit because the DMV's Internet connection was down-- construction workers had accidentally severed their fiber-optic cable completely, and they were estimating three hours before the connection came back. I was simultaneously terrified and impressed by the woman who administered my driving test, who managed to keep a queue of about eight or nine people straight in her head and dealt with all of us in an absolutely calm and efficient manner even when some people were being a bit retarded. (Like the guy who never figured out that she was giving him an eye exam. Like, he just couldn't figure out why she wanted him to read line eleven. She was thoroughly unimpressed with him, but the tiny shake of her head after he left was the only sign she gave.)
Anyhow. She was awesome, and I must say, I have always been impressed with the workers at the DMV every time I've gone. The place may be a nightmare (Erie Co.'s budget cuts mean that there are only two DMV offices in the entire county, which is among the most populous of New York State, and the other one is closed on weekends), but the workers are always tremendously efficient.
I had a bunch of other stuff to talk about, which is why I didn't post the entry last night, but by now I've forgotten.
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no subject
Date: 2005-09-17 06:34 pm (UTC)Ugh. I wish I had something educated to offer, but beyond Advil and stretching/cracking the area, I'm useless. And you're still without health insurance, right? You might see if anybody knows a chiropractor that might give you a friend's discount...??? Erg. I'm sorry.
The best thing I could come up with was just repetitions of the F-word over and over.
LOL. In my opinion, vulgar poetry is one of the best kinds. :p On my writing desk at home, I have a piece of paper with the word fuck typed in big black letters in a plastic frame. It never fails to amuse me.