05.15.2002 - The Bitch's Bitch

With every pill I take, I get four hours closer to the slothful, early to bed, late to rise sleep that, much like hiring Helena Bonham Carter as my personal nude pancake chef, is something I want but can't have. As is to be expected, my inability to get a proper night's rest has lead to grumpiness and retardation on my part. I need a nap.

I spent most of my day at work dreading the last hour of my shift, when I'd be plucked from my quiet existance and harangued until I punch my "supervisor" in her girl parts or start crying. While I walked from my building to hers, I tried to convince myself to smile. While that proved to be unsuccessful, I was able to erase the teeth baring snarl I would have shown otherwise. When I got to her desk, the first thing she said was "I think we got off on the wrong foot yesterday," to which I wholeheartedly agreed. Rather than taking accountability for her actions, she lambasted me some more and told me that if I'm confused in the future I need to ask questions. Then, she went through all the things that she thought I did wrong. For each one, I explained why I did it and why I was right. When she finished, I said, "maybe you should ask more questions."

Bad move.

So I spent the rest of the day doing bitch work, but at least it wasn't under her direct supervision. I don't know how much more of this I can take. Being a personal assistant is humbling enough, but I need the paycheck. I will not, however, ever need money bad enough to be an assistant's assistant. I'm one roll of her eyes away from telling her to eat a dick.

Tired and cranky, I strolled out to the VAnGINA to go home and relax by sitting around without my pants for a few hours. When I got there, I realized it was time to take my pill, but when I reached into my pocket to fish for the vial, they weren't there. Much cursing ensued, as I realized I left them at work and would consequently have to drive back out there to get them.

Since I didn't want to make another trip out to Sacramento without a bigger purpose, I decided to begin my CD selling experiment today. The store where I resell my discount CDs has four branches, and I decided I'd take an equal amount to each store to see who would give me the most in return. This way, I could maximize my money in the future. So after I stopped by my office and somehow managed to avoid any and all small talk, I drove to the first store.

I'm taking eleven CDs to each store, which is the an initial investement of $2.75. The guy who bought my CDs orignally said, "I'll give you a buck a piece." I scoffed and started to grab my CDs back, causing him to re-evaluate and give me twenty-nine dollars in credit in the end which I used to buy the new Elvis Costello album, as well as used copies of Midnight Marauders by A Tribe Called Quest and The Rentals' first album. Not bad for less than three dollars spent.

From there, I moved on with a second batch of CDs to the next store who were not as generous, only offering me nine dollars. I took the CDs back and stomped out of the store. I will not be returning to that branch.

I put on my new music and set to beginning what will surely be at least a month long project to make up for the house cleaning I neglected when I was sick before heading over to Holly's house to watch the Dawson's Creek season finale. As far as season finales go, it was pretty bland, but at least there were no unintentionally hilarious "Crumbling Dawson" scenes this year. Thumbs up for that. I'm happy to have my Wednesday evenings back until October or so.

The rest of this evening, however, would be spent desperately trying to stay awake until midnight so I could maintain my mediine schedule. I think my problem lies in the fact that I must stay awake until midnight, because I rarely go to bed that early anyway. I'll be happy on Saturday night when I can finally get my proper sleep on.

It's hell being old.

-- Jeffy