See, this always happens when I hate my job. I let it Get me, and I become sluggish and unwilling to update my journal, because I know that it would turn out to be 98% bitching about work, and 2% talking about how I don't get laid, and really, why do I want to read that? I bore myself. ["Yes Frank, we all discussed you and agreed that you're disgusting"]
I won't talk about work today. No matter how much I want to vent about the soul-destroying evil that has internally manifested itself in my fantastically abhorrent bad attitude, usually reserved for my boss, but once in a while spent on a coworker or two.
I fail to grasp why people protest events, when protesting has no purpose. Or, perhaps I'm just too dumb to extrapolate the date therein and provide a logical timeline in which to assume possible positive outcomes. Specifically: that teenager who got killed. I mean, what's the point of a parade? We can post internet comments now, there is no need to get up and go outside, right people? I dunno, then news leaks out that he wasn't some squeaky-clean kid like everyone thought, then it turns into a "smear" campaign...and I don't get any of that manipulation. It's a fucking bullshit scenario, I mean, shooting a kid? Come the fuck on. Unfortunately, it's now turned into another Great Race Conflict. I'm sick of race.
Hmmm, what else is going on in the world? Ah! Titanic anniversary. You know I love the Titanic; I like to privately refer to it as the Greatest Moded Moment and Nautical Extravaganza. I think the last bit might be a bit tactless. I love profit-from-tragedy, so I'm reading about all these artifacts from the ship that are selling to stylish collectors (over 100k for a menu! Them's some good eats!). I know people sometimes get all bitchy over that, calling it graverobbing and the like. So, what, rather have them decay and be lost forever at the bottom of the sea? It's not like the interior of the pyramids, where the items have sustained themselves relatively intact for centuries. The ocean breaks down everything, albeit slowly. Fucking bring the whole damn tugboat up! People get weird about this sort of thing, but the same people never have problems with selling serial killer's stuff (profiting from gruesome acts of violence, oh my gawd, BONER), or criminal wanted posters, or whatever the fuck else. No, for some reason, it's only the Titanic that makes them turn stupid, and they argue for having just a fucking plaque in the sea, and dramatically silent neglect of the ship. Yes, it's such a somber occasion, let's all never touch the ship, because it's much more poignant that way. See how serious we are about our sunken boat? Fuck, even Auschwitz is a museum, and you want to leave Titanic on the ocean floor?! Dummies.
I'm a sucker for yahoo, but I swear, they have the worst writers on the planet working for them. Chris Chase is a huge joke in the sports world, but I haven't got time to make fun of him right now. I have a picture right here of how doctors are saving a baby who was born without intestines (harsh!), and I'm just so irritated at the photo captions, I have to click away. First, it's irrelevant to note that the parents are "underage." What does that mean, and why is that important to note? A parent of any age suffers when their kid is all fucked up. Next: WHY do you have to point out that the baby "clenches his fist?!" GAWD, if I were the type of person who utilizes the "roll" feature of her eyes in order to emphasize the stupidity of another person or scenario, then they'd be stuck in the 'up' position right about now. It's this kind of shit that pisses me off; people getting all emotional thanks to unnecessary emotional cues. The baby is a few months old and isn't clenching his fist in defiance, or showing a will to survive. I mean, I just imagine how douchebaggy people would get all into that.
A shop in Hawthorne sold a lotto ticket that had 5/6 winning lotto numbers. Can you imagine? I think I would've just shot myself then and there. 5 out of 6, my ass! Talk about getting fucked with. By number 3, you're telling yourself to calm down. By number four you begin to hope. By the fifth, you're spending your money. Then...HA! Psych! I never really understand why people only play the lotto if the "pot is large enough." What, you can't use 1 million, but 500 million is worth gambling the dollar for? I don't get it. Also, everyone is shocked when they find out that I never, ever play the lottery (unless I'm going in on a coworker pool, because fuck that, those bastards aren't gonna leave me out of their jackpot and my ticket to retirement). I know I love to gamble, but maybe that's why I avoid the dollar investment? It just stirs up those crazy gambling frenzies I'm known to get. I know it's only a matter of time before I'd be spending dollars on every fucking game California has to offer. Because, say it with me now: Katie plays to lose, not to win!
I really wish we had a Dunkin Doughnuts around here. I went to Yum Yum (formerly Winchell's) the other night, and I was so annoyed at the crappy doughnuts and inferior customer service. Winchell's has always been the asshole of doughnut shops, and I think 99% of Mom 'n Pop shops are totally overrated, and are worshipped simply because they aren't chain shops (fucking hipsters).
[Spellcheck is insisting that I spelled "worshipped" wrong...and I know the rule about not doubling when it's a "p" [developed, galloping], but this an exception. It must be, worshiped doesn't look proper. Or am I wrong?]
Anyway, Crap Crap Doughnuts is open 24 hours and located close to home, which are the two biggest reasons I have for ever going anywhere. I went inside, and the little bell goes off. The guy in back looks over, but ignores me. Okay, the only other people in the building are two chicks studying at one of the tables. Not exactly Grand Central Station, ya know? So I'm milling around in front of the case, and I keep setting off the "customer is in the store, pay attention you asshole" bell. He neglected me! What! He looked over again! I am here to buy doughnuts, you have doughnuts to sell me! FUCKING MAKE IT HAPPEN. And by the way, dick, I hate my job too, and want to hang myself for having to work there, but I still am nice to my customers because it's not their fault my life turned out like this, and I AM getting paid regardless, so just be fucking nice and come over an stop being a total degenerate asshole stoner motherfucker and SELL ME A GODDAMN DOUGHNUT!!!!!!!!!!!! WITH SPRINKLES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And I'm not one of those dramatic customers who swear "I've been waiting 20 minutes!", when the store has barely been open for 10. No, I only waited about 4 minutes, but that's an eternity, innit? He was prolly hoping I would just go away, but come on dude. Sorry to interrupt your day, but I thought part of your job was to ring me up for a doughnut? With sprinkles? Oh, and you could say "hi." That's welcoming. I'm not an asshole customer, damn it! And I'm not a fucking moron, I didn't come in going "ummmmmmmmmmmm what's in that one? Ummmmmmm how many more do I need for a dozen lol? Ummmmmmmm I want this one right here, can't you see where I'm pointing?!" No, I said "four glazed crullers, three chocolate cream filled, and the rest sprinkles, I don't care which." Am I the ideal doughnut shopper or what! Bitch.
Oh, speaking of hate. I went to Torrance Bakery to order a cake for Holly's bridal shower. I took the invitation proof with me (this one: http://www.weddingpaperdivas.com/product/8287/signature_white_textured_bridal_shower_invitations_brides_sketchbook_.html), since I'm not great at colors or anything. I wanted to get my point across. The girl was taking my order, and I made it very clear: look, I don't care about the style of the cake, I just need these colors. The dark, dusty pink, and turquoise. If you want to do roses, fine, and the butterflies are all right too. The style isn't so important as the colors, it has to match! Okay, the girl was really nice, but even she admitted "I'm probably making this harder than it needs to be, sorry", as she wrote out a bunch of shit, and kept crossing things out, and referencing page numbers for other cakes for butterfly designs. Personally, I would've written simply: dark pink butterflies/hearts, turquoise roses. And left it at that, am I right? Whatever, I told her I trusted her and that she was the expert. She had the invite in her hand, she knew what I meant, and she knew it was a bridal shower. She repeated it back to me, and she said it all correctly.
When I went to pick the cake up a few days later, I was HORRIFIED. It was something I'd take to a 3-year old girl's party, not a fucking bridal shower! BRIGHT ASS PINK, and the only blue was a bright blue border along the bottom. No roses, little daisies instead. I knew it was mine because it had my inscription ("it's about time!") on it, but other than that, it was NOTHING like what it should have been. I was mortified, and fucking PISSED.
I can't even talk about it anymore, I'll get all worked up. Heh.
Hey, not bad, a meaty post. Maybe after work I'll talk about my plans for pizza domination! Go me!