I’m phoneless therefore handicapped. I left my charger in Easterland and I picked one up at RadioShack after work. I gave dumb ugly salesman my phone. Dumb ugly salesman ran away with it and brought me a charger. He hooked it up in the store and showed me that it worked because I was a bit skeptical. I brought it home. Plugged it in. Ten minutes later it made the shut off noise. It wouldn’t turn back on. It is dead. I looked up the igo universal charger number online. Dumb ugly man gave me the wrong one! RadioShack better give me a new phone or fix it or do something to restore the status of my once happy little Samsung or someone will be dead.
Lets see what else is new. Well, I hate my job. That isn’t new. Today we had the 34th meeting about getting a part-time assistant to help our department which most likely has no chance of ever happening. I’m tired of having meetings about it when nothing comes out of it. Another month will pass and someone will bitch about it again, bringing on another repeat of the month before. Not that I wouldn’t love the help. I could be much more efficient if I didn’t have 300 projects going on at once. I know I complain about everything, but I know I’m overworked and underpaid, and I am just sick of wasting even more time discussing the same thing over and over.
I’m sick of American Idol. The same people keep singing and sucking, and its just not fun anymore. I understand that it is a process to find the next big superstar, but come on … enough is enough. It is time for mass elimination. I don’t know why I watch it. It is on my default channel that stays on all day until Nick@Nite starts. FoxonIdol needs to die. Stop invading my television!
If anyone gets bored this week, you can go over to my landlord’s house, shove a stick of dynamite up his ass, and light it. Email me for his address. He is coming over and bringing his stupid furnace man to try to figure out why I have to keep my window open to avoid a heat stroke while the dude upstairs freezes. It doesn’t take a Rocket Scientist to figure out that basements are always warmer than upstairs places … especially if that is the location of the furnace. I know its just an excuse to bitch about something and invade my personal space. Die.
To sum it all up: Today sucked and its not my fault.
I will perform the dynamite act… can I ask why though? I like to know that I am doing my work for good and not evil.
Because my landlord is old and stupid. He stands outside of my apartment and picks up leaves. And collects cigarette butts and asks if any of them are mine … with exact locations that they were found. I am going to start collecting them … so I can dump them all over his porch and fill up the mailbox.