Home
"I think it, I say it. It's my way." [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Adelheidi

[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ archive | journal archive ]

[Update] "It's been a hard day's night. And I've been working like a dog." [Aug. 21st, 2009|08:24 am]
[Tags|, , , ]
[Current Location |The Beatles - Hard Day's Night]

Quick Update/Question:

At work, when I'm working drive through, I have co-workers who will inevitably be in my area who will be talking loudly/laughing loudly. This means I can barely hear the customer over the headset. What's a polite way to tell them to move elsewhere and what tone of voice am I aiming for when saying such a phrase? I've thought of "Could you guys please settle down? I can't hear the customer," but I'm not really sure on the tone of voice.

Also at work, these two people like to greet each other by yelling "SHUT.......UP!" It's very obnoxious, especially if one of them is in a good mood and says it all night long. Is there a polite way to tell them they're being obnoxious, or should I just suck up my disdain and move on?

Currently, I have a cold. I can tell simply by the sore throat and the lack of sleep (am unable to sleep very well when I'm sick). I plan on continuing to go to work through this cold, and have off Sunday and Monday to try to recover a bit. However, this cold does make me more prone to crying fits, more irritable, and even less patient than I typically am. What are some good coping techniques to get me to calm down and realize it's not that big of a deal and it's not the end of the world?

On Tuesday, I ran into a cop car with my car. I was clearly at fault (trying to switch lanes. I think he was slowing down and that's when I hit him). No ticket, no fine, just have to pay a thousand dollar deductible to get the car fixed. My driver side door doesn't open all the way, and I have quickly learned not to expect it to, after getting hit in the head/ear twice (does this mean I'm a fast learner?).

Am working on learning to save money and controlling my impulses. So far, I've learned that when I think things like "I should buy ________________," I'm already planning on spending the money. I'm not sure how well this knowledge will keep me from spending money, but it's been working so far to get my money to the bank (where I owe them $219, due to compulsive spending. Don't ask, don't tell). My therapist tells me I need to save an emergency fund and start saving up money for a new-to-me used car, as my current car won't be around forever (especially with the way I drive it!). Currently, I'm waiting for 9am EST to roll around so we can go get an estimate on how much it'll cost to fix the car and when they can fix it. I hope I won't have to request off from work, as that'd get me less hours.

To be honest, I don't much like work lately, but it sure beats being at home, and it's not like I have anything better to do. Besides, I need the money. My days of calling in "sick" just because I don't feel like going in are over (previous job. Learned my lesson from that one). I now tend to force myself to do things I don't want to do, and I try very hard not to whine or even mention that I don't like doing X part of my job (I made a mistake in telling a manager I didn't want to do dishes this morning, and I blame that on being sick. Doing the dishes left me time to contemplate on how awful I felt and that let me cry).

Earlier, I felt I didn't do anything right last night. Now I recognise that was an exaggeration, but I still feel discouraged over doing some things wrong. I didn't squeegy the floor properly (when we wash the kitchen floor, we dump buckets of soapy water down, scrub it up, rinse it down, squeegy and then mop up the excess water). I mean, I asked the manager for the best way to squeegy and she said whatever way I was comfortable with. To be honest, I was looking for tricks and tips into doing a better job, as I'm simply awful at squeegy-ing the floor. There was still too much water left over, and the manager had to re-do some of my work because I did it wrong (in the end, I was planning on just mopping up all the more-than-excess water, but whatever). This really had a huge impact on my mood and made me feel very dejected (of course, I also was hot as hell and feeling nauseas and faint. The smells of pot, cigarette smoke, exhaust fumes, gasoline, cheap beer/alcohol, and meat all tend to nauseate you after a while. I used to love the smell of exhaust fumes before I came to this job. Now I can't stand them, simply from smelling them from so many cars. I have no idea what is wrong with these people's cars, but I'd much rather they spent money getting the problem fixed, rather than coming to the BK Lounge).

We get a lot of foreigners at work. Hell, they might be legal citizens now, I don't know. All I know is it's frustrating to take their order and rather hard not to be rude to them because of the language barrier. Here's a sample conversation (T = Them, U = us):
T: "Number One! No cheese!"
U: "What can I get you to drink?"
T: "NO CHEESE! NO CHEESE!"
U: "Yes, I got that sir, now what can I get you to drink?"
T: "Coke. Large. NO CHEESE!"

Earlier, we had this one person who came through drive through and his accent was so thick that I rang up his order wrong. He wanted two whoppers, no cheese, extra onions. I had rung it up as whopper jrs. He kept stressing the "NO CHEESE!" part. Whatever country these people are from that keeps fucking them over by giving them shit they don't ask for and/or clearly state they don't want? I FUCKING HATE YOU. You're a dishonest dirtbag, and I hope you choke on all the shit you give people they don't want.
Link1 comment|Leave a comment

Advertisement

[Work] Coworker Woes [Jul. 29th, 2009|11:56 pm]
[Tags|]
[Current Location |bedroom]
[Current Mood | aggravated]

So, I have this coworker, Deon. He just became a cashier this past month (he's been working at BK for 6 months and has been in the kitchen before, and has only recently branched out to be a cashier).

He's an awesome guy, or at least, he was, until he became a cashier. Now, he acts like he's my manager/boss. He'll berate me over ringing a customer up for a sandwich wrong (which really isn't that big of a deal, and if he was better at his job, he'd have been listening to the customer's order and asking if the right sandwich was on the board).

Last Saturday's overnight, on Sunday morning, he kept bugging me over spilling chocolate syrup and milkshake mix. He's all "you're going to have to use a wet rag with that!" before I'd even finished mopping up the excess syrup with paper towels. And then he pointed to a spot on the floor (that'd been there since we'd cleaned the floors at 4am) and told me to clean it up. Why he couldn't do it himself, I have no idea. It didn't look to me like he had anything to do, other than follow me around and berate me for doing things "wrong" without giving me a chance to do them right). I told him I'd clean it up and then went and put away the BK Mocha Joes I'd been making. He then starts with the actual berating. He's all "You're 25 right?" and shakes his head in a mocking manner. "You should know by now not to mess up my kitchen." I'm fucking livid. I'm seeing red, I'm so goddamn angry. I yell at him about his berating me and how he doesn't even give me a chance to do something before jumping down my throat about it.

On that same overnight (or maybe the day before), Andy was working for about an hour while Deon and I were there, and that douchebag convinced Andy that I'd talked nonstop about him the previous overnight, so I had to deal with Andy smiling this obnoxious-schoolgirl-crush-smile at me. I find it totally fucking disgusting that he likes me (for reasons I've mentioned in previous posts and will resist going into in this one, for repetition's sake).

He goes to tattle to Green, and I have no idea what the end result was, since Green never spoke to me. I know it pissed Deon off earlier, when I told him that he wasn't my manager and to leave me alone. Like, gee, sorry your bubble has burst, but you aren't a Red Shirt (supervisor) or a manager yet, so stop acting like you know how to do my job better than me.

On the bright side, I've gotten a couple of compliments on how well I do drive through this past week. One customer thought I was a manager and Kevin (a Red Shirt) complimented me on my drive through skills, after my coworkers were scolding me for supposedly not asking if customers wanted the small or the value fries/drinks.

I asked, and for the one customer who ordered 4 small fries, I verified two or three times, but the customer insisted on the smalls. Then, when they got to the first window, they realized they wanted the value fries, and changed it there. My coworkers thus assumed I didn't ask the customer if they wanted the small or the value fries.

The thing about my asking, though, is I never mention the value fries are only $1. I figure if I do that, people will choose the value over the small, and we won't make as much money. The whole idea of making the old small a value and then the other old sizes small, medium and large is to make money and force people who typically order the $1 fries to order more expensive fries. It's marketing technique. Make a bigger buck by changing the size names and hoping people don't notice until after they've paid and left.

If I mention the value fries are $1, I might miss out on making that profit on someone who doesn't know/care about the size of their fries and might be willing/uncaring about paying $1.75 for fries. Not to mention, putting the fries into the value sized bags is a pain in the ass.

I really would love to stop asking people if they want the small or the value, though. The change happened SEVEN MONTHS AGO. Get with the program, people!

The thing that's interesting to note, though, is the people who order value fries will sometimes order 2 of them or more, without ever noticing that it's cheaper to order a small or a medium instead of two value fries, and then forcing your idiot friends to share.

Meanwhile, I've been picking up more hours. Last week, I worked 29 (I was scheduled 23, and I'm pretty sure it's because Big Boss Lady knows I'm reliable and won't call off at the last minute). This week, I've got 20 hrs so far, and two more overnights to work (which will be about 10 more hours). And I get to work with Jill on the overnight, so I'm kind of hoping she'll stick Deon in the kitchen (I work with him on Friday/tomorrow's overnight), so I won't have to deal with Deon being a douche.
LinkLeave a comment

[Non-Update] [Jul. 21st, 2009|06:21 am]
[Tags|]
[Current Location |bedroom]
[Current Mood |tired]

Just wanted to let you all know I'm still alive, even though I don't have anything to say/report =)
LinkLeave a comment

[Friends] This shows exactly how epic Delia really is! [Jul. 10th, 2009|02:39 am]
[Tags|, ]
[Current Location |bedroom]
[Current Mood |amused]

From: Delia Logan <dlogan@>
To: All Staff <seekritemail@>
Subject: My beloved apple juice has left me!

I'm sorry things didn't work out between us, Apple Juice. Maybe it was the timing. Maybe it was your reluctance to accept my love for other sugary drinks -- I thought I'd made my polyamory obvious that time you caught me with Dr. Pepper, but maybe it took a while for my alternative lifestyle to sink in with you. Maybe someone better came along -- someone who was willing to love only you.

But words cannot describe the hurt I felt when you, who shunned my love or another drink, allowed someone else to partake in your tarty tastiness. I feel lied to. I thought we had something special, Apple Juice! I was away for only a day, a day spent longing for you, and I come back to find you have moved on. Someone else had sampled you. You were tainted.

I had plans for us, Apple Juice! Great plans involving shaped ice cubes and cups with dinosaurs on them! I had hopes that we would last longer than this! After all, you were 64 ounces: that's at least a week's worth of breaktime drinking goodness.

I know, I should have brought you home, shouldn't I? Then you wouldn't have strayed. I only hope that this new person, with whom you've shared at least 30 of your ounces, loved you the same way I loved you, exactly the same way I loved you. From the initial New Love feelings, to the desperate need to soothe a sore throat, to the appreciation of your aid in the taking of medications. I hope your new lover ignored my claim on you -- my branding that stripped you of your apple name and instead called you DELIA'S JUICE. I hope that this person drank you straight from the bottle, just as I did, and is now feeling exactly how I felt: suffering from a severe sinus infection.

So today, Apple Juice, I drank a toast to you. It was a Gatorade toast, since there was nothing left of you for me to drink. You wanted to part ways. I accept that. I hope the brief fling you had with that anonymous person was satisfying. I'm not bitter, not like you are, but know that I will always love you more than that dirty stranger did.

If you want to return to me, you know where I'll be.

All of my love,
Delia


If I add anything, it's going to come out passive aggressive, even though I don't intend it to be :P
Link1 comment|Leave a comment

[Lifestyle] [Jul. 1st, 2009|06:45 am]
[Tags|]
[Current Location |living room]
[Current Mood |annoyed]

Ah, the joys of being a picky eater.

I'm hungry (yes, still). Tried to abate my hunger with peanut butter and fluff, which was too sweet. An hour later, I tried to abate my hunger with hot dogs. Two bites later, I'm still hungry, but not interested in eating hot dogs.

This totally blows. It appears, there isn't anything I can think of that I'm in the mood for, which means I'll just have to go hungry.

I assume if I weren't a picky eater, this kind of thing wouldn't happen. Do I assume correctly?
LinkLeave a comment

[Random] [Jul. 1st, 2009|05:12 am]
[Tags|, , ]
[Current Location |living room]
[Current Mood |bored]

So, I find myself unable to get back to sleep, not that it matters. I need to be up at 7am anyways for work (it's 5:13am right now). So, here's a short life update, I guess.

I've recently taught myself to use the mouse with my left hand, just so I could write things down with my right hand, if I so chose to do so. I have almost got this skill down pat.

Dad is currently getting ready to hit the road and drive to Nebraska for this vacation this year. He will be handing off hunting guns to my cousin, Jonathan. Hunting guns that have been in our family for 3 or 4 generations (at least, one of them has, that is). Dad'll be gone about a week (or a week and a day, depending on when he gets back), and I imagine I'll miss him (as he's mostly my primary source of human contact). This means I'll have the whole house to myself for a week (and obviously, I'm not the type to throw a kegger, host a massive orgy, sacrifice some goats, or anything exciting like that while my dad is gone. Disappointing, I know).

So, it's going to be just me and the cat for a week. Hopefully, I'll be able to pick up some more hours from work, so I won't have to be exceedingly lonely (I am sadly a rather extroverted creature). My therapist has suggested volunteering as a way to meet people and given me some tools to help me feel more confident in social situations (the main reason I haven't really gone out of my way to gain a hoard of friends, besides lack of money, is lack of confidence. I tend to feel really awkward in social situations, and I typically don't know what to say, nor do I know what questions to ask to leave the conversation up to the other person).

Today, I'm working from 8am to 2pm. Yey? *shrug* It's going to be 5.5 hours if I get one of the managers who insists I take a break for my 6hr shifts. I don't much care for the break, simply because I *need* that extra half hour of paid time. Not to mention: I tend to get bored after 20 minutes, no matter what I bring with me. Typically, on my break, I'll write in my journal and maybe do some stipple in my sketchbook. I've found I can't read a book on my break (or before work) because it makes me cranky to have to interrupt said book to get back to work, and I'm not a person who's fond of wearing headphones and/or listening to music indoors (for the most part).

Am hungry, but I have yet to figure out what I'm going to eat for breakfast. I know I have to eat before work, just so I'm not tempted to eat food there (I have no money and Big Boss Lady is a stickler on the whole 'no free food for employees/anyone' thing).

Dad got me two new pairs of jeans, as I was down to one pair (they tend to rip along the inner thigh about a year or so after purchase). These pairs are faded blue jeans, and now I'm regretting getting this colour, simply because I can't pass them off as anything resembling professional if I need to go in for job interviews (yes, I have work pants, but I don't much like wearing them. They're not as comfortable as jeans). I'm really liking my new jeans. Previously, I've gone with the 'Sweetheart' style from Old Navy (I always get jeans from Old Navy), and now I've decided it's time for a change. This time, I've gone with the 'Diva' style. I must say, I like the 'Diva' style better. It's got bigger pockets! I can fit my whole hand in them! FLAT! Unlike the 'Sweetheart' jeans, where I could only fit my fist and nothing more (and unlike my work pants, where I can fit my whole hand flat + some of my wrist). I imagine this probably won't be impressive to anyone else, as I do have tiny hands (still child-size. Adolescent child size).

Annnnnd, I think that's about it. For anyone who has a dreamwidth account and wants to add me, I'm [info - personal]cora
LinkLeave a comment

[Witch Queen] [Jun. 24th, 2009|11:01 pm]
[Tags|, ]
[Current Location |living room]
[Current Mood |hot]


The Borderline Mother by Christine Ann Lawson; pg 280; ISBN: 0765703319
"The Witch's no-good children feel soiled, damaged, dirty and defective. As adults, they carry remnants of feeling unclean and may have humiliating dreams of soiling themselves, of not being able to find bathroom facilities or privacy.


I can totally relate to this. Lately, I've been having dreams about going into my bedroom to change clothes or something that involves nudity, and the door won't shut all the way. Like, there's this half a foot to a foot of space left where the door doesn't touch the door frame, doesn't close into the door frame, doesn't latch into the door frame. I'll either be in my dream!bedroom or in a dream!bathroom when this happens (PS: the dream!bathrooms are *always* kind of creepy as the toilet almost always clogs up or overflows, or is just grotty in general).

I also note that my dream!bedroom is often rather eerily cast with bad lighting (and this is when the lights aren't refusing to work). There'll be too few lamps for the room, so there's always this one corner that's shrouded in darkness, and I always get this shiver going across my back that makes me want to check under the bed for monsters.

The bathroom is typically always well lit (in contrast to the bedroom), and at some point of being in there, water goes everywhere. Either, the bathtub will fill up more than should be possible/responsible (typically the shower has glass walls), the shower comes on automatically onto me, the toilet overflows/clogs/any combination of the two, the toilet is really grotty (see one of the failblog's toilets. Seriously, you don't want to eliminate your bodily waste into that thing, yeah?), the door doesn't shut all the way, the door isn't tall enough for the door frame, the "bathroom" is an odd little penned in area (like a play pen area), or any other odd lack of privacy/cleanliness.

This is why I don't much care for my dreams. Some of them are rather intriguing and fun (had one last night about designing a greenhouse as a mobile home), but others tend to just have sinister and threatening undertones.
LinkLeave a comment

Advertisement

[Father's Day] Inspired by PBS' Fathers and Daughters Segment [Jun. 21st, 2009|08:27 pm]
[Tags|]
[Current Location |living room]
[Current Mood |nostalgic]

One of the fond memories I have of my father is getting to ride up high on his shoulders while we were walking to a park near our home in Lincoln. I've always been afraid of heights, but for some reason, the height never bothered me when I was on his shoulders. I knew he'd keep me from falling.

One of the bigger regrets that I think both of us have is when he backed away from child-rearing while I was growing up. There were a lot years wasted when we could've formed an alliance against school bullies, sometimes frustrating homework, wasps that took over the swingset in the backyard and my mother.

I'm nostalgic for the times we could've had growing up, more for my father than for me. I get the idea that he would've gotten a bigger kick out of my childhood than I would've gotten (simply because I, thankfully, don't remember a lot of my childhood anymore).

About a month ago, Dooce posted a daily picture of Leta and Jon reading Shel Silverstein's Where the Sidewalk Ends. The caption said, "Leta has taken a serious liking to Shel Silverstein's poetry, particularly everything in Where the Sidewalk Ends. Last night she and Jon took took turns reading 'Boa Constrictor' over and over again, both of them erupting in laughter when the boa constrictor reaches the author's head and he is unable to speak any longer. It was one of those moments people point to when asked why they want children." If my father had pushed more, or if I had realized reading together was a more acceptable way of asking for attention, I imagine that image of Leta and Jon could be an image of me and my father. It also doesn't help that I was an independent, arrogant little shit who probably shouted, "I CAN READ IT! GO AWAY! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" Whenever anyone tried to read something to me (strangely enough, that's still the reaction I have today when most people try to do a read-a-long. I get frustrated by how slowly people read aloud, and because I've already read the material by the time they get around to reading it to me).

A couple of months ago, I tried to get dad to re-read me 'The Elephant's Child' from Rudyard Kippling's Just So Stories, but he refused. I pointed out that he does the voices better than I do (at least, when I read it aloud in my head), and he said that he did the voices fine enough for a small child, but it wasn't anything special. In truth, I wanted him to read it to me again because I no longer hear his voice when I'm reading the story to myself.
Link2 comments|Leave a comment

[Depression] [Jun. 18th, 2009|05:04 am]
[Tags|, ]
[Current Location |Living room]
[Current Mood |distressed]

Insane background: don't expect this entry to be pretty. This is my fifth day going cold turkey without anti depressants, I'm insanely manic (running from REALLY PISSED OFF to idiotically weepy), my body temperature isn't stable (I shiver all the freaking time. I'm either too hot or too cold and shivering through both. I go to sleep cold and wake up in a cold sweat colder. WITH THE EXPRESS NEED TO GET OUT OF MY WARM BED AND PEE!! Which is *really* fucking annoying because I'd rather stay in my warm bed than go out in the cold, cold, cold, cold, cold arctic house), I have a zero tolerance policy for anything and everything: I get pissed from my damn sheet sticking to my skin, pissed at the birds for making too much fucking noise, pissed at the cat who wants to play with me at 4 AM, pissed at the fact that I have to stay awake through 8am because I've yet to become a rude enough douchebag to wake my doctor up at 4am for a goddamn prescription (not that it matters: WalMart is the only pharmacy with my info and they don't work 24/7).

Regular background: Insurance company is a bunch of douchebags (I feel this way even when on my antidepressants). We have to order all my prescriptions in 3 month quantities. This has fucked me over twice now, as I have *no* idea when to order them (as opposed to if I had to order them monthly, I'd know when to call each month, I'd hope). They will only let me order things in one month quantities if it's an emergancy.

STORY: Took my last amount of Effexor on Saturday. It was a half dose. I thought I had two pill bottles left? Nope. If I had to order my prescriptions every month, I wouldn't have to worry about how many months left I have.

So. I figure, no big deal, I call on Monday and ask for a prescription. Am on vampire hours Monday and pretty much sleep right through the nice 8am to 4pm doctor hours they give me. Okay, fine, what the fuck ever. I call in on Tuesday (and am not douchebag enough to say "I NEED THE THIRTY DAY LIKE TWO DAYS AGO!!!!!" because generally, doctors hate having to write last minute prescriptions, and secretaries get bitchy about it, too). They'll have my prescriptions Wednesday.

Wednesday! Still on goddamn vampire hours (made worse by having intense desire to NOT sleep at night). Am also tripping to the point that I had to rationalize to myself that even though I felt like I was in a dream, I can't just run over the (pedestrian) cock suckers at WalMart because this is REAL LIFE and the bodies don't just appear into nowhere (yeah, that's fucking creepy. Not so much while you're experiencing it, but still).

So. Since I'm on vampire hours, I force myself out of bed at 2pm (because the neighbor hired some cocksucker to mow her yard AT 2 PM IN THE FUCKING AFTERNOON WHEN I WANT TO GODDAMN SLEEP. Oh, and the grass clippings smell atrocious). I sped all the way to the doctors. The secretary only has the 90 day prescription. Tells me the 30 day was called in. What the fuck ever. It's the middle of the goddamn night for me. I race back home (going about 55MPH in a 40 zone, and an idiot almost decided to pull out in front of me without looking, thank god he didn't. I'd have given him a piece of my mind). I call dad, tell him it's the middle of the night, his turn to figure it out, because I'm going back to sleep.

Wednesday night: Dad comes home. Doctor (unsurprisingly) did not call in prescription (unless she called it into the insurance company which helps me NOT AT ALL since they're located in like fucking Texas. Maybe some other state, but the point is, I won't be seeing that prescription any sooner than I need it).

So. This brings us to Thursday. When I'll go in at 8am and mention I need my drugs FUCKING NOW, and if I'm still going through withdrawl this weekend, there is NO way I'm going to be able to work this weekend. And considering the next time I work is TOMORROW, I imagine there are no hours for me this week.

Which makes me realize: If I'm not going to be able to get full time work with health insurance or part time work with health insurance I AM FUCKING SCREWED. And should perhaps think about applying for disability because *clearly* I can't function without my goddamn drugs.

I'm uncomfortable as hell, and I imagine I'll be at the doctor's office in tears later on today. When things piss me off (often), I really would *love* to take it out on my body and beat bruises into my thighs, and if I didn't think it'd hurt the house, I'd love to throw my body up against the wall in effort to burn off and externalize my anger.

Mormons wanted to spread God's "love" yesterday, or some way-too-gay-to-live bullshit like that. If they want to talk about God's love, that's awesome, but they'd better FUCKING UP THE LEVEL OF GODDAMN SEROTONIN IN MY HEAD FIRST!!

Also: I already got rid of two cocksucking telemarketers this week. I sincerely hope the Mormon church will not become a third I must get rid of. At least I still have *some* semblance of humour left: if I ever answer when they call, I want to shout out "NOT WITHOUT MY CAFFEINE!!" and hang up the phone.

Although, the way I feel now? If they were to call *right* now? I'd answer, "Your invisible friend is a cock sucking crack whore. Unless he's found some *magical* way of guaranteed health insurance, or is offering to alter my DNA to no longer need anti depressants, I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY TO HIM."

There was no depressed mood, but strangely, I don't think distressed is too off the mark.
Link6 comments|Leave a comment

[Haircuts] Haircuts Time Plz! [Jun. 1st, 2009|07:06 am]
[Tags|]
[Current Location |living room]
[Current Mood | excited]

So, I've been needing a new haircut for a while (supposedly split ends? But the ends are not actually split, so I don't think that's the proper name for it), but have been unable to get one due to lack of funds.

This morning, I suddenly recalled sometime back in the 2004/2006 "era" (if you will), I cut my own hair at about chin length, and it turned out pretty well (thin hair totally makes this possible). So, I looked around the house (did not have to look far/long) for the hair scissors (we have them from when my mom used to cut my bangs when I was a wee little tot), and then started lopping it off. I did not do an entirely *even* cut on the faux!fringe portion of my hair, but I think it looks pretty nice anyway!


Before:


After:



I dunno, I kind of think this length is more "me" than having hair all the way down to my waist (YES! It was *that* long :D!! My life-long goal, since the age of four, has finally been achieved!). It's long enough that I can still do things with it, but hopefully still short enough it won't get caught in zippers, half way down my esophogus (no, really *resolve face*), in the car window, on my fingers in the shower (euch!), etc.

I totally can't wait to show it off (and speaking of, it's 7:05am. Why is dad not up?!)!
Link1 comment|Leave a comment

[Sims] Survivor Sims Style [May. 5th, 2009|01:50 am]
[Tags|, ]
[Current Location |bedroom]
[Current Mood | giggly]

To play, you must have 8 willing (or unwilling, whatever) contestants (because that's all a house can hold).

1) Get everyone inside the house and then remove the door.

2) Build a fireplace and put a cheap-ass lamp next to it. One of those floor lamps. (or, put fireworks inside the house)

3) Fill the room up with tons of flammable shit: beds, bookcases, chess boards, fireworks, dressers, etc.

4) Get one of the sims to light the fireplace (or the fireworks). Repeat if necessary in order to get things burning.

5) Sit back and laugh and laugh and laugh.

6) Whoever lives: WINS! :D
Link1 comment|Leave a comment

[Dreamwidth Invite Codes] [May. 3rd, 2009|11:03 pm]
[Tags|]
[Current Location |living room]
[Current Mood | excited]

I have two invite codes for Dreamwidth. First come, first serve.

Please to comment with email address. Comments are screened.

Even after the invites are gone, I'm able to request more, so if you want to leave a comment even if they are gone, I can email you a code as soon as I get more =)
Link5 comments|Leave a comment

[Religion Suck] [May. 2nd, 2009|01:52 am]
[Tags|, , ]
[Current Location |living room]
[Current Mood | curious]

On Television:

Pray with me:
Lord, I am a vile, disgusting human being

....

Love thy neighbour as one loves thyself


Um...but if I'm calling myself a vile, disgusting human being, I'm clearly depressed and spiralling downward to suicidal. Does this mean I'm supposed to take out my neighbour when I go? Maybe *that*'s why there's suicide bombers!

I've never understood the point in praying/worshipping such a condescending prick.

If a human came up to you and said "You're an evil, disgusting thing!! :@ But I LOVE YOU! :D" you'd think they were fucked in the head (and to be honest, my mother has said similar things to me...). Why, then, do people accept this from a supposed God who's supposed to be above that sort of high school bullshit?

These are typically the same clique-y Christians who feel Jesus (despite loving everyone, accepting everyone and dying to save the ENTIRE world, nonbelievers & believers, sinners and saints) will send all non-believers to hell. I kind of have a hard time taking these people seriously, and if I find out I have a friend like this, I have a hard time valuing the friendship (I find it hard to be friends with someone who honestly believes I'm going to Hell, despite trying my best to be a good person, just because Jesus doesn't really mean beans to me).

I personally do have an attachment to Mary, but not Jesus for some reason. The bizarre part? I was raised in a Methodist/Baptist church. Said church preaches that we all sin. I believe we all have sinned, but that sin is a choice we make (whether conscious or not). I don't feel thoughts/feelings make up sinning so much as what we do with those thoughts/feelings. It doesn't matter that you're only taking your younger brother to soccer practice, just because you want to borrow the car on the weekend, it's still a good deed done, and it still adds character. It still sends out positive energy and brings about positive feedback, even if you're doing it for an entirely selfish reason. Because you took your little brother to soccer practice that evening, he might be willing to cover for you when you forget to get mom a birthday present (or when you sneak in after curfew that next weekend). This world is built on 'you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours.' There's a lot of times we don't want to scratch someone else's back (like when we feel a co-worker is slacking on the job), but we do it anyway (typically because it's the right thing to do, and it needs to be done anyway), and it'll someday come back to us when we need a favour (or, so we hope. It depends on how that co-worker's mind works).

The thing I'm wondering though (based on my father's life and the assumption he believes in the "default" Methodist/Baptist God): Has your belief in a certain kind of God had any effect on the relationships you've chosen with others or the relationship you have with others? How so?
LinkLeave a comment

[Dreamwidth] [Apr. 30th, 2009|11:10 pm]
[Tags|]
[Current Location |living room]
[Current Mood | excited]

I done gots me a dreamwidth account Link!.

Anyone else here have an account yet?

If I get any invite codes, I'll be sure to post about it =)
Link5 comments|Leave a comment

Advertisement

[Dreamwidth] [Apr. 24th, 2009|08:48 pm]
[Tags|]
[Current Location |living room]
[Current Mood | anxious]
[Current Music |fan blowing]

Am dying for a dreamwidth account and can hardly wait until 04.30.

If someone has a spare code (or knows someone who has a spare code), please invite me? Email is adleheidi.nc gmail.com

It's really urgent because I'm an impatient bitch because I want a name that might be considered common!
Link3 comments|Leave a comment

[Sick in 2009] [Apr. 22nd, 2009|08:00 am]
[Tags|]
[Current Mood | tired]

Am pretty much back to health. I just have a leftover cough, which intensifies when I do physical labour (I typically cough after physical labour, though).

Yeah, I guess that's all. I also smell like soap bubbles, from cleaning the floor at work (not that anyone really cares, though).
LinkLeave a comment

[Sick In 2009] [Apr. 16th, 2009|05:45 am]
[Tags|, ]
[Current Location |living room]
[Current Music |News At Sunrise]

Dad was sick with a cold last weekend, and now I'm coming down with the same thing he had. My throat burns, but that's the only symptom I have so far (though, I imagine I won't be able to get good quality sleep soon).

This blows, as I'm missing getting $10 for driving a coworker to her second job today, as well as getting paid for a 5hr. shift tonight. I just called in sick, as I have to give them at least an 8hr. notice. I asked dad if I should call off work, since it's only day one, and he said yes, so I assume I'm going to feel worse very soon now.

It's going to be irksome if I'm going to have to call off working the overnight tomorrow night and/or Saturday night, simply because I don't have that many hours this week, and overnights pay more than working during the day.

I'm hoping I'll be able to get some form of good quality sleep tomorrow, as I really do want to work those overnights. I'm being stupidly optimistic about it, even though past history shows I don't sleep at all well when I'm sick.
LinkLeave a comment

[Question] [Apr. 15th, 2009|11:53 pm]
[Tags|, ]
[Current Location |living room]
[Current Mood | curious]
[Current Music |Tonight! With Jaaaaaaaayyyy Leeeennnnnnooo!!!]

Question to those of you inside the Angel fandom. What episode is this icon from? Am dying to see Cordy in Angel's shirt.
Link1 comment|Leave a comment

[Life] [Mar. 27th, 2009|05:22 am]
[Tags|, ]
[Current Location |bedroom]
[Current Mood | happy]

Filling out personality quizzes on Facebook has made me realize my father has had a bigger impact on my personality/life than I realized.

One specific quiz mentioned in a past life I was Ghandi. Now, any of you who've known me since I was 14/15 will know that's definitely not true (I was a terror at 14/15 and would get into fights and be insubordinate).

I'm pretty sure the quiz thought I was Ghandi in a past life* due to the fact that I'm not the type to get into drama. I like listening to gossip, but I don't typically pass it on (because, quite frankly, I don't feel it's anyone's business. That doesn't mean I don't like to hear/know, but I recognise it's not polite to pass it on). I'm much more level-headed these days, and a lot of it is due to my father. When I was younger, I'd suggest things he could do at work whenever he was displeased with his boss (and typically these things included telling his boss he was displeased. As an example, his work upgraded Microsoft Outlook, and it took dad a half hour to get it back the way he wanted it. I suggested dad write to his boss about it, and dad said his boss would take it as a sign dad wasn't working hard enough). Dad would tell me he couldn't do these things for fear of getting fired.

*We're ignoring the fact it's impossible for everyone to be reincarnated as a famous person right now. I highly doubt I was famous in a past life.

It's my father's fear of getting fired that's instilled into me and makes me really good at customer service with sucky customers. It's what enables me to think before I speak in a [retail] work environment (for the most part), and be more polite to customers who try to rip my employer off. It's what prevents me from being rude right back to rude/inappropriate customers (some of my current coworkers don't have that skill. I tried explaining the need for such a skill to one of my coworkers, but I think it went over her head. At any rate, Big Boss Lady is good with knowing what employees will be rude back to a customer and finding them something to do so she can deal with the rude customer herself). It's what makes me put on a sugary sweet smile whenever I get pissed because a customer interrupts what I perceive as more "important" work (example: cleaning the lobby of my current work or cleaning the dishes). It's what makes me remember to smile (that I'm afraid it does look forced. I guess I really am a transparent person), even when I don't want to (I'm just not a smiley person typically. I don't really smile much when I go about day to day business, or see other humans who I don't really know). I mostly force myself to smile because Big Boss Lady said in my interview that she's paying me to do so.

As for being nice to customer service people, it's partly my father and mostly my retail experience that's helped with that. My mother (in Queen mode) tried to train me to be rude to customer service in order to get what you want (and once was appalled when I told her to be rude to the customer service rep, so he'd give her what she wanted just to get her off the line. I think she was in hermit mode when she expressed this feeling). Working at OfficeFax made me realize there's not a whole lot a customer service rep can do for you. Typically, if they tell you they can't do something, they can't. And if you try speaking to their manager, their manager will typically tell you the same thing.

I used to be rude to telemarketers (back before the nice 'Do Not Call' list was created). I'd hang up on them. Working at OfficeFax has taught me to be nicer to survey-taker-calls and telemarketing calls (not that we get any telemarketing calls anymore). It's taught me the poor person on the other end of the phone is just trying to make an honest living, and can't help the fact that his/her company is a douche for making hostile customer rules (such as calling around dinner time. Or, you know, calling at all).
LinkLeave a comment

[Merging Logs] [Mar. 24th, 2009|02:42 am]
[Tags|]
[Current Mood | accomplished]

In case anyone cares, I merged my blog, The Witch Queen with my LJ. I don't really plan on keeping my tumblr account anymore (not sure how to delete it, and am not assertive enough to ask the tumblr support group to delete it).

In case anyone cares to read the entries (and any future I would've made to that specific blog), they're under the tag witch queen.

The witch queen blog is primarily my reactions to reading books on BPD (Borderling Personality Disorder).
LinkLeave a comment

navigation
[ viewing | most recent entries ]
[ go | earlier ]