Blueberry fuck muffins is this shit??? American Fucking Idol for two hours and NO House??? You fuckers! Tribute to Michael Jackson... a two hour American fucking Idol rerun??? Argh. I think we've had enough of the MJ tributes and shit now. It's all good until it starts fucking with my reality. Gawd damn it.
Grrrrrrrrrrr...
They better not pull that shit tomorrow, the assholes. Fuck up my entire week. Now I've got to wait until morning for IHop to be in a more gooder mood. Not. Happy.
And yes... I'm going to pout. That shit helps me get through the stupid part of the week. Now my flow is all disrupted and shit.
And...
To make matters worse... my hot water heater has decided it would like to leak. I suppose that means I need a new one. Which, I suppose, means I have to call a fucking plumber tomorrow. Or... something. I have no fucking idea. That makes me so incredibly happy, as you can imagine.
Better yet, I get to listen to my mom flip the fuck out. She was ranting and raving and pitching a fit over it... slamming doors and shit. As if the fucker's going to stop leaking because she's pissed off that it's leaking. Dork. She was all "if I have to stay up all night"... I guess she thinks, if it's leaking, she should stay up all night and watch it leak? I have no idea. It's just a little leak... and if it becomes a big leak, what the fuck is she going to do??? Toss towels on it all night? Goofy woman.
Work
Not too much going on there. I haved decided, sorta, to see if I can't make Sam "twitchy". My old goal was to punch a dent into one or the other of my admin filing cabinet doors. After months of smacking, them I finally managed to dent one. (Fuckers are harder than they look! That and every good smack required two to three weeks hand healing time before I could whack it again.)
I pointed out my dent (it's just a little one... did I mention those doors are harder than they look?) to Sam and told him I punched it into the door. He freaked out. Not in a "bad War, no denting government property" sorta way but in a panicky, twitchy sorta way. He started acting all concerned, asking (in a nervous tone) if I was pissed off about something or what the problem was.
This amused me greatly.
Since I've already been told (by other supervisors and others) that I intimidate the pantsoff Sam... well... I've decided that making him so anxious in dealing with me that he becomes twitchy.
Why would I do such a thing? Oh... cuz I can. It will amuse me. It's like an experiment. See how twitchy I can get Sam without ever doing a single thing to him. We've never even had a single cross word and he's already afraid I'm going to beat him up... or something. Four hours to come talk to me about his stupid ass email he sent out six hours to come give me my evaluation. He does NOT want to have confrontation with me in any way, shape or form... and that amuses me.
I've got to find a new hobby there because my pandiculation/mirror neuron reaction experiments have been caught on to and I get yelled at for making everyone in shift briefing yawn.
Today's Video
Since the bastards didn't put on House, I decided to watch my own version. **Warning** season 5 finale spoilers... if you haven't seen the last ep yet, you probably wanna skip this. (And what's taking you so long???)
I guess she thinks, if it's leaking, she should stay up all night and watch it leak? I have no idea. It's just a little leak... and if it becomes a big leak, what the fuck is she going to do??? Toss towels on it all night? Goofy woman.
My old goal was to punch a dent into one or the other of my admin filing cabinet doors. After months of smacking, them I finally managed to dent one. (Fuckers are harder than they look! That and every good smack required two to three weeks hand healing time before I could whack it again.)
hahahaha
