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Monday, November 23rd, 2009
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Being highly valued at my job just means that I get more work for the same pay.
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Comments: Read 2 or Add Your Own.
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Tuesday, November 10th, 2009
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How about instead of gabbing about your personal life you do your fucking job?
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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Thursday, November 5th, 2009
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I get it, you're a special snow flake. Now stop showing off.
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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Tuesday, October 27th, 2009
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Don't you fucking dare yell at or argue with me over policies or decisions that I do not make and can't change.
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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Tuesday, September 15th, 2009
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Every time I drive past where you lived, I check the parking lot for your car. How fucking pathetic is that?
Goddamn I am stupidly clingy.
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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Why do even bother busting my ass to make everything as smooth and flawless as possible if you don't even read the fucking paperwork?
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Tuesday, September 2nd, 2008
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Also, I think I'm the only person in the world who has attempted Dragon Con three times and concluded that it is not worth it. I don't have the time/money/talent/inclination to make a costume, everything is expensive, I have NEVER found the rooms for the panels that interested me (or multiple ones all occur at the same time), and everyone who says I should come so that we can hang out ends up speaking to me for all of 5 minutes before flitting off to drink at some engagement I'm not invited to.
It's just a $500 ticket to see the Cruxshadows.
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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People who say they like anime and declaim at length about them are just pretentious snobs who are embarrassed to admit cartoons in general are fun.
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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Friday, August 29th, 2008
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Gadsden county
two freaking syllables
NOT three
And definitely not pronounced Gadison.
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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Saturday, August 16th, 2008
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After a conversation at the Warehouse, it has been brought to my attention that the purpose of this journal has not been made clear: I keep this journal as a log of the thoughts I shouldn't have. I don't just post them privately in my regular journal because I want people to be aware of these terribly vicious things that I occasionally think. If it's public, I can't pretend that the thought never occurred to me. These posts are made without any forethought to how they might be construed by others, and as a result, some people felt very hurt and insulted. That was never my intention, and I'm sorry for that happening. I keep this journal of vicious bile as a reminder of how NOT to act and how NOT to think. I keep this journal not as a day-by-day account of goings-on in my life, but rather as a record of my all-time lows.
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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Monday, August 11th, 2008
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Can you smell the irony?
It smells like vindication.
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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Thursday, June 12th, 2008
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Thursday, April 24th, 2008
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Friday, September 7th, 2007
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So I'm really hoping I misunderstood something about the situation, but I could swear someone on livejournal said that he was getting a friend out of a dead end community college to work at a bar.
How exactly does dropping out of school to get a job mixing drinks equate to upward mobility?
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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I heard about a marriage today. All I have to say is green card.
edit on August 16, 2008
After a conversation at the Warehouse, it has been brought to my attention that the purpose of this journal has not been made clear: I keep this journal as a log of the thoughts I shouldn't have. I don't just post them privately in my regular journal because I want people to be aware of these terribly vicious things that I occasionally think. If it's public, I can't pretend that the thought never occurred to me. These posts are made without any forethought to how they might be construed by others, and as a result, some people felt very hurt and insulted. That was never my intention, and I'm sorry for that happening. I keep this journal of vicious bile as a reminder of how NOT to act and how NOT to think. I keep this journal not as a day-by-day account of goings-on in my life, but rather as a record of my all-time lows.
I hope that clears up the issue. If this explanation does not suffice, let me know.
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Wednesday, February 21st, 2007
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If any of you pregnant people get me infected I will set you, your house, and your husband on fire.
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Comments: Read 6 or Add Your Own.
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Tuesday, November 14th, 2006
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I'm give up. I'm fucking done. Since you apparently don't feel the need to call me when you say you will, or even send me an email to tell me that tentative plans are canceled, I give up.
I want the shit we lent you back, and I'll never bother you again.
And don't you dare call to apologize or make it up to me.
Either be my friend, or tell me we're not. Just stop leaving me hanging.
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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Wednesday, September 20th, 2006
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I am sad Steve Irwin died.
But I am not surprised.
Anyone who makes a career out of hanging out with wild animals capable of killing people knows the risks involved. It doesn't matter how well trained you are or how much experience you have.
Go ahead and mourn him, but please, don't tell me it was a surprise or a shock.
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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Monday, September 11th, 2006
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All of you who read this know me personally.
Most of you who read this are aware that I don't particularly react to insults the way people are expected to. First off, if you are calling me out for something I am perfectly aware of (e.g. saying I'm bitchy or capricious), I am very likely to agree with you, and probably laugh if you said it in some particularly witty fashion. If you say something outrageously untrue even in front of people who wouldn't know (e.g. calling me a whore), I'll probably won't even register you said it. But. If you ever, ever, EVER call into question my skills or my intelligence, we have a problem. A problem that may result in me never speaking to you again. A problem that will leave me awake for DAYS seething over it and running over the encounter in my mind.
I'm in the middle of an issue like that right now. Fortunately, in this particular instance it's not some dirtbag boinking someone I'm friends with, so I'll have no compunctions about smothering the individual in question with a pillow if given the opportunity. The fact, however, still remains that my intelligence has been impugned, I'm fucking FURIOUS, and no one gives a shit and keeps telling me "don't let him get to you." WELL FUCK OFF, OKAY! See how you feel when someone implies your functionally retarded at something you take pride in? Emotions aren't exactly controllable, you jackasses. Sure, I can pretend not to give a crap when dealing with this moron, but that emphatically does not, I repeat, does NOT, mean I'm not hurting and not angry. You're my friends, remember? You're supposed to care about me, remember? Telling me that how I feel about this doesn't matter trivializes my whole being. If my emotions don't matter, does my mind? Does my body? If I'm so goddamn unimportant to you, why the hell don't you just go hang out with the guy who says I'm stupid? Can't you just for one bloody minute be a sympathetic ear or maybe offer me some encouragement? Or are you all just trying to hide my stupidity from me and now that it's been brought up you're hoping I'll just forget about it?
And that's what happens in my head every time someone calls me stupid and means it.
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Comments: Read 3 or Add Your Own.
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Wednesday, August 23rd, 2006
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I'd really like to stop worrying now please.
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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modern_valkyrie's journal