Today... was horrible.

The air conditioning is broken or malfunctioning, so even being inside at work is miserable. If fact, being outside is preferable because there's a breeze, even if it is a breeze of scalding humidity.

I barely got any tips today. Yes, I was on speaker for a while, but I still took out many an order, and the only reason I made the five dollars that I did is that some nice guy tipped me two.

And, when I left, I ordered the wrong type of wrap, so when I got home and bit into it, it was quite disappointing.

For whatever reason, my mood dipped down to a level of pissed-off that I rarely find at work. There weren't even any bad customers; just the usual gaggle of confused, mumbling regulars. I think part of it was mild rage at the guy I mentioned a few entries back, the guy who likes to wax philisophical about things that are practically common knowledge, but he likes to sound smart, like he made it up. It's like someone saying, "Wow. What if everything in the universe is just a product of my, or someone else's, imagination?" Think that up all by yourself, kimosabe? Then he asks questions that lead you into his stupid superiority complex.

Like this one. I was trying to get to the scanner to take out an order, and he was doing the trash. He had placed the trash can right in front of me in a very narrow part of the store, blocking me from the scanner, and then dropped the empty bag he was fumbling with. I was trying to get around him because the managers will yell at us if a scan stays up too long before one of us gets it, so I didn't pick up the bag for him. He was right there.

"What, you aren't going to pick that up for me?" he said.
"No, I'm trying to get to the scan," said I.
"You think you're special or something?"
At this point I tried to make a joke out of it, becasue I could feel myself starting to simmer.
"No. I think YOU'RE ugly."
"Well, the things we say are reflections of our inner selves. Are you ugly inside?"
"Yes."
"... oh. Hahah."

I guess he wanted me to defend myself so he could feel high and mighty with his new-age bullshit, but I stamped out that fire with my mighty boots of negativity. I also could've said, "According to your logic, you must think you're really special," which would be true, but I really just wanted to get away from him. It sickens me to hear people try to sound intelligent, while at the same time cursing a blue streak. A lot of intelligent people curse, but this guy doesn't strike me as having the kind of intelligence that would really produce the things he says. He just regurgitates kindergarten philosophy and biblical quotes that he hears other people speak of.

So anyway... another crap day. I found out I have a double-shift next week. Nine hours. I'd better get two breaks, goddamnit. I am also working six days that week, even though my goal was to have only five days of work per week so that I don't collapse. Joy.

But how much of a difference does it make to my day when a customer actually gives me eye-contact and a genuine smile? I almost cried.

As I walk up to your car, I see that you have a relatively new PT cruiser. Upon looking at you, I see that you spent so much money on the PT cruiser that you have no money left for toothpaste.

Being that I am fairly good at my job in customer service and realize that it is rude to stare, I do not know precisely what diseases your gums and teeth are suffering from, or how many of your actual teeth are still in your head, or whether that is, in fact, congealed saliva coating your smile, but please. Please. If you DON'T brush your teeth, do NOT try to engage me in prolonged conversation by asking me if I go to high school, if I go to college, and other such crap questions that are, 1) none of your business, and 2) cause me to have to lean closer to your halitosis to hear you. I am not interested in flirting with someone who so obviously feels that dental appointments are things that happen to other people.

Thank you, and I hope that soda corrodes some of the granite off your teeth.

You know, I am getting pretty freakin' tired of people making horror movies and resorting to a chrous of children singing, or children whispering, or children looking freaky and scaring the adults. IT'S BEEN DONE. Think of something NEW. Like... I don't know... hamsters. See? How hard was that? A chorus of hamsters squeaking on wheels would probably be scarier than kids at this point, because it's been tacked on to SO many movies that I'm now desensetized to it.

I hate children to begin with, but this is just ridiculous. All these horror movies look and sound like the exact same movie. Especially anything by that Shayamalan guy. Ok, The Sixth Sense was pretty good, but you could've stopped while you were ahead of the game. Now I dread seeing any preivews bearing your name because your movies all have so many similar elements that I wouldn't pay to see ANY of them, because they're all the same movie.

In short, horror movies are pretty lame anyway, but they would be better if the had more hamsters in them. Hearken back to the days of yore, and movies like, "Attack of the Giant Shrew" and other such cinematic masterpieces.

---

I visited AFI's myspace (shudder), and it reminds me that I hate myspace. Also, I was looking for a new song download, because the other day I saw a song mentioned that I'd never heard of before, but sadly, I found nothing new, and I can't remember the name of the song. So, if anyone knows the location of, say, a good copy of their NIN cover, they should point me in that direction, or else a chorus of whispering children will be visited upon you when you're on the crapper. And hamsters. In the bowl.

Superman was pretty good. I don't really remember the old Superman movies, but I should probably watch them again. Kevin Spacey as Lex Luthor was awesome, and whoever played Superman was smokin' hot. Seriously, I never thought Superman was hot until this guy. Superman was always the guy who could do too much and was therefore boring. I'm really more of a Batman girl, but hot damn. Not even the guy on Smallville is this hot, and he is pretty good-looking too.

Christopher Reeve has nothing on this guy. Except the whole "real-life hero" wheelchair thing. But still! Hot. And, I got to see the preview for the third Spiderman movie, though I wish I hadn't, because it is a YEAR away and it looks TOO GOOD.

There were no fireworks today... a series of very strong storms came through, and any rockets sent off would've fizzled out, or been struck by lightning. While that would've been interesting, it was not the most likely of the two options I just listed. They will probably have the fireworks tomorrow.

The storms were interesting, and I got to catch up a bit more on my Pratchett while everything was unplugged. I also managed to take a nap that lasted fewer than three hours, which never happens. I always end up sleeping five or more.

Speaking of books, I highly recommend Dawn by Octavia E. Butler. It's sci-fi, as is almost everything I read, and she really does a good job of making the aliens truly foreign. Although they are humanoid, they aren't just humans with full-body makeup - they are truly strange, and the concept of "rights" as we know it just doesn't apply to them. They care about humans in one way, yet use us in another... there are many interesting juxtapositions* in the novel, and I am looking forward to other novels she has written.

I hope it rains tomorrow as well. The aquifer needs it.

*I realize I used this word already recently, but, having just gotten up, I can't think of a suitable replacement.

Today I worked the night shift. Technically it is "yesterday", but only by twenty minutes. And I would like to reiterate that I prefer the night shift. I made $30, and it was relatively slow all day. Steady, but not overwhelming, which is how it usually is with the night shift, in my experience. Not as many college kids running around. There is a dinner rush of big orders, but it isn't so bad.

The point is, in a day shift, I would've worked harder (and hotter), I would not have gotten as many tips and I probably would've been sent home early. As it was, I got an extra hour because two people set to leave at different times were riding together, so I took over for one of them. I don't mind, since I didn't get my Saturday shift back, like I asked. Boo. I need all the hours I can get, barring another six-day work-week.

My new shoes are being broken in, and are, indeed, hurting. I feel bouncier when I walk, but the feets are still complaining. They look great, though. And they came with red AND black laces. Choice is good. They drew attention from the other carhops without me saying anything. I guess my pasty, pale legs will make red and black shoes stand out pretty severely. But I would like to mention that my calves are shaping up nicely. They may not be visibly different, but I can tell there is more muscle there. Yay muscles!

There is a guy who wears roller blades to work and likes to show off, and also likes to make lots of sex jokes and generally make me feel awkward. He is just trying to prove he has lots of testosterone, but he also likes to sound smart. The title quote is from him, after he was $20 short at the end of his shift. "I was prideful today and now I'm short." I found the juxtaposition amusing, but I didn't want to laugh at him because he really was trying to impress all us ladies with his knowledge of philosophy or biblical quotes, or what-have-you. He also complimented me on my new blue shirt, because my uniform actually matched, for once. I wish I could get a red visor for the red shirts.

The point is, it is weird to be around boys that show off so much. He also, very often, puts me in mind of the song, "Don't Stand so Close to Me".

Upon the advice of my dear nerdy friend, I elected to instal Linux on this non-working computer that is in my possession, since I couldn't boot it in anything other than safe mode, and I couldn't wipe the drive. I swear, I'll never know anyone more adept at ruining computers than my brother. And to think, I thought it was I who was destroying perfectly good technology all those years.

Somehow, I messed up the partitions (which I didn't know existed) and the computer actually lost its OS, but that rendered it format-ready, which further proves that, yes, it was the OS blocking everything. I wiped it with glee.

So, at first, I can't get the CD drive to boot anything, and eventually I figure out that "cable select" is the only thing that will work for it. I also didn't make the Linux disk right, and with further help from said friend, I got that all sorted out.

So Ubuntu starts to install, and wouldn't you know it, something else isn't working. Linux gives me a list of errors (and takes about 20 minutes to rack them all up, too), and proceeds to go blank. Things are still happening in the CD drive, but it's just the same pattern over and over. I tried all the various methods of starting Linux, and I even scanned the memory, which took an hour. Nothing worked.

This computer can freeze Linux.

It's screwed.

So I pulled the RAM, the sweet 40 gig drive, and the CD-ROM. The rest is soon to be disposed of, since it's nothing amazing and is, in fact, severely outdated. The only current thing in there was the OS: XP Pro, amazingly.

I must now call Friendly Computer Guys in town and see if they have a program to transfer everything from my 10 gig to the now-blank 40, so I won't lose my OS or programs, and will gain further capacity. I'm actually toying with the idea of erasing the 10-gig drive and starting fresh with Ubuntu as my OS. I'll then be fully open-source and won't have so many security issues to fret over, but I must first familiarize myself with the Ubuntu layout and functions.

If anyone out there is currently running Ubuntu or another Linux and has any advice/tips/recommendations, that'd be great. It is scary to step into the unknown of Linux, since I have been using Windows since '95, and Macs before that, but it promises much.

Today, on the way to have birthday lunch with Mnemsyne, I saw a dead animal in the road, in front of a house. My immediate thought was of the fawn I saw last week, but this time it was a dog, not visibly injured. In fact, I at first thought it was sleeping in the road. Animals around here do that sometimes. You know how they imply, in books and movies, that you will somehow know that something/someone is dead? Yeah. No. I couldn't tell until I got a good look at its eyes and saw the parasites beginning to swarm.

I called the sheriff, reported it... and some people came out of the house just as I was beginning to tear up. The man asked if it was my dog. Thankfully, no. They said they'd called the Humane Society and they wouldn't come out, so I told them I just called the sheriff and they would send someone. We saw the collar on the dog, got the number, and I called the shelter with the rabies vaccination number. They looked it up and found the owner, in a nearby neighborhood, and said they would call them and let them know.

They gently bagged up the dog and pulled her out of the road. They thanked me, said they would take it from there. I left, only hoping that if Gratch ever met a similar fate, someone else would have the decency to take five minutes out of their busy schedule to drag him out of the path of uncaring vehicles and call the shelter, so someone could tell me what became of my baby dog. Only as I was driving away did I realize that I had known that dog when it was alive.

I had seen it wandering around the busy road that leads to our neighborhood, and I had pulled over to check for an address on the collar, someone I could call, but it was after business hours and there was only the shelter number. The collar was too tight on the poor thing, but she seemed happy. Stinky, but happy. I spent some time petting her and telling her to stay out of the road, and then I left her there after she seemed more inclined to wander in people's yards than in traffic.

I felt very conflicted at that moment, because I thought I was sentencing that dog to death by leaving it there. I could've taken it home, could've done anything but what I did.

But it turns out that continually negligent owners were this dog's death sentence, not my actions. The people from the house said they had seen it wandering around several times, knew it must live around here.

And it just reminds me that I hate people who don't take care of their animals. Cats wander, yes, but cats can mostly take care of themselves. Dogs are more domesticated, and probably less intelligent on the whole than cats, and they NEED us. I can't stand the people who just let their dogs out the front door and trust that they will know a speeding car when they see one.

The dog... she didn't look like she'd been hit. She looked as though she'd just laid down and died, so maybe she was street-smart. Just ill, or old. Or a blunt-force death. I hope it was the more peaceful option, because she was very friendly and sweet when I knew her.

When I drove back today, she was gone.

The animal shelter told me her name was Kahlua.

Playing Mario Kart DS has really improved my GCN skills. My DS ran out of battery a few hours ago, but I wasn't finished racing. I then noticed my neglected and dusty GCN sitting on top of my TV, and thought, "Hey. I spent $30 on Double Dash. I should play that one more."

And I did. And once I got used to how fast-paced the GCN version is, I started kicking ass. My drift skills have been upgraded from "nonexistant" to "moderate"! And I finally beat those courses that were giving me so much trouble. Which, sadly, were only on the 100cc circuits. I don't play the GCN as much as I should.

But soon I'll be able to move on to the 150. God have mercy on my hands, 'cause they already hurt. And yet... I crave more. Sure, the 64 version was great, but I basically have that on my DS. Therefore, I no longer miss it, but I do wonder why my friends and I always played on the 50cc circuit. That's lame. But I didn't have a system, and they did. I assumed they knew what they were doing.

... yeah.

I'd kick all their asses now, though. I take comfort in that. She can keep her gigantic jugs. I've got Kart Skillz. Sort of.

---

Happy birthday Mnemsyne! You are 21! Geezer!

Thank you to the people who actually tip me for bringing out huge orders. Today, I even had to enlist help - six kid's meals and two adult meals, and all the accompanying drinks and ice cream are NOT going to fit on one standard tray.

Sometimes people DON'T tip for those, and that's what surprises me - do you not see me sweating my ass off (while tactfully keeping said sweat away from your food and drink), staggering under the weight of your diabetes-inducing 44-ounce monstrosities of drinks, then struggling to balance it all as you insist on paying me before I hand you anything? Does it mean nothing to you that it's almost 100 degrees outside, and the humidity is at 80%? I suppose it doesn't, since you have air conditioning, which you refuse to shut down your engine to keep, thus raising the temperature in my area even higher.

I would also like to thank those who realize that tipping is good form at Sonic, and apologize when they don't have any spare change for me. I love you even more than some of the people who DO tip, yet must glare at me and let me know they are unhappy about it. Keep your nine cents, if you're so attached to it!

It was quite a long day. My change cup overflowed, actually, and I thought it would surely be another $50 day. It would've been, if not for all the stingy credit card people. As it was, I made $38, so that's nothing to sneeze at. Money is contaminated enough as it is. But my feet are really killing me. I staggered up the stairs when I got home, and stalled the car twice on the way back. I plan to vegetate in front of the Boob Tube with my feet soaking for a good few hours before bed, which will come sooner rather than later.

Many thanks to Mnemsyne for giving me two shirts that don't fit her, but do, in fact, fit me. Quite well, really. I think it might've helped with the tips. At least, I imagine that it did.

Me, holding the courtesy tray full of items such as salt, ketchup (or "ketchoop", as some people say, although no one has yet said "catsup"), mints, etc.

Enter the Persistent, and Persistently Gross Bald Guy.

Me: "Any extras for you today?"
Guy: "Salt. And ketchup."
Me: "Anything else?"
Guy: "Yeah, mints."
Me: "There you go! Anything else?"
Guy: "Your phone number."
Completely making this up, but you know. Had to get out of that quickly. Or so I thought.
Me: "Um... we're not allowed to give out our phone numbers at work."
Guy: "Then what time do you get off work?"
It is at this time that I check my "watch", which is otherwise known as a scanner wristband.
Me: "Um... you never know, with this job. Can I get you anything else?"
Guy: "Yeah, just your phone number."
Me, running away in fear of being dragged into the car and raped: "Ok then, thanks."

Of course, the carhop who delivered his actual order got the same barrage, but this time he had ice cream on his moustache. What a charming fellow, don't you think? I love it when creepy guys make me waste time by pretending to like me. I don't know what he expects to get out of those things, but it ain't free food or a free flash of my boobs. It's like he's the one working for tips, instead of me.

Oh, and one more thing. If you expect to be able to call me "baby" when addressing me, I expect YOU to tip me more than five cents. This isn't a peep show, it's a drive-in, for Christ's sake, although you wouldn't know it from the way some of the male customers oggle the female carhops.

Sometimes I wish they allowed me to carry a tazer as part of the uniform.

(Crossposted to Customers Suck.)

So I called the insurance company to say, "What the fuck?" without actually saying "fuck", and it turns out the guy who set me up had no idea what he was doing. I guess the number of times he left his cubicle to ask his office mates what he should do about this or that should've been a warning sign, but I figured he must know about the things he wasn't asking about.

... sure. Sure he did.

He actually doesn't work there anymore, so he was my helper guy for about an entire MONTH. Evidently, he gave me rental car coverage that one can't have without comp. and collision, as well as quoting and setting up my insurance based on my father's account with them, which, it seems, can't be applied outside of his trainee world.

I have all the sympathy in the world for trainees who mess up, as long as they catch their mistakes before it costs me any money. Therefore, I have no sympathy for him, OR for his supervisors, who should've double-checked his work if he was so new he didn't even know how to set up a basic account.

So my dad and I are going down there to kick some ass and take some names on Friday, and, if need be, take our business elsewhere. This isn't the first time they've messed up when giving us vital information, like when they told Dad I'd be covered for ten days with my new car. I drove a standard that I could barely operate, in Dallas, for a WEEK without insurance.

Very comforting.

My position is, if I find a lower quote elsewhere (based on ACCURATE information), and they don't do something to make me very, very happy, I'm quitting them too.

I don't take no shit, yo.

---

In other news, my car averages about 26 miles per gallon. Not as inspiring as I thought it would be, but they are still releasing cars that get lower mileage, and that's with almost zero highway time on a ten-year-old car. Not bad, not bad. I'm sure on a road trip it'd get over 30, and the better I get at handling that transmission, the more efficient it'll run. And the tune-up will definitely help.

I'm getting goddamned tired of this little insurance game.

I just got a bill from my new, supposedly great car insurance agency that says my next payment is going to be $70 MORE than what my payment is supposed to be. Since it's no longer business hours I can't call them and bitch them out, but I'm on the verge of tears from frustration, so that might not be a great idea anyway.

The explanation on the bill is, "Change in operator age", and they are adding, retroactively, more money to each of my payments. Because the first payment was WHAT WE FUCKING AGREED ON YOU FUCKERS, I now have to pay what they would've added to that one, as well as the add-on charge for my next payment, so my next installment is almost DOUBLE what we agreed upon.

I don't know what the fuck they're thinking, but I'm this fucking close to driving uninsured. Tomorrow is my day off, the day I get to relax, but I guess I'll be spending it on the phone with my goddamned insurance agency, trying to figure out why they are trying to leech all my money out of me. I don't see how getting OLDER and getting MORE EXPERIENCE AS A DRIVER is of detriment to this situation, but evidently, it is.

My day was going so well, too. I love how something like this can throw me to the dirt in an instant.

"You've been tailgating me and swerving around for an awful long time. Oh, there you go, passing me in a no-passing zone even though I'm going the speed limit, showing off your truck engine that you probably never use for truck purposes, endangering me and everyone else, yourself included, just so you can go faster. I wonder how I can get back at them without hurting myself. Nothing about my car is going to intimidate a truck.

"No, no, stop thinking like that. Think like a Buddhist. You'll never find peace in your life if you're always trying to figure out how to get revenge. Abandon the desire for revenHAHAHA YOU GOT STUCK BEHIND ANOTHER LINE OF CARS GOING EVEN SLOWER I WIN YOU DICKFACE!"

Friday was the ONE DAY I could've been let off early and really had use for it, but no. No, someone had to get sick and go home, so we were short-staffed, which means I not only got no break, but didn't even get off work until a quarter past five. And it was a shitty tip day - people giving me $50s and $20s all day for orders that didn't even cost five bucks, then shooing me off. And lots of credit card people. Last time I had a shift this long, I made $50 in tips. This time? $20. Yanger.

Then I got to drive for four hours in my brother's truck. While the truck is fun to drive, and I can definitely see the appeal of the light truck, it is also an unfamiliar standard transmission. This is not good for sore feet, but luckily it is a breeze to drive. I only stalled twice.

So we took two trucks out to west Texas to help my mom move. The first thing my brother did, as the leader of the two-vehicle convoy, was to leave me in the dust at the gas station in town. I caught every single red light from one side of town to the other, and meanwhile, he was already on the Interstate.

You'd think that if you had a relatively new driver operating YOUR baby truck, you'd want to keep them in sight, right? I guess he thinks I can take care of myself, but it was really frustrating, especially since I missed one of my entrance ramps, since I didn't know where it was and, surprise, no one was leading me to it. Plus, having him phone in the directions to me was stressful - I never talk on the phone while driving anyway, and ESPECIALLY not in a standard, in someone else's car, no less.

So we got there ok, packed up a bunch of furniture, slept fitfully (at least, I did), and once again went cruising down the deer-laden highways of Texas, this time with Mom in the lead in her blue sedan. She's a much better leader than my brother, who tailgated her all the way. One of the couch pillows flew out of his truck bed, but we were able to recover it with a minimum of fire ants occupying its upholstery.

I amazed my brother with my economical driving. I guess when he drives his truck, he can't make it 250 miles on just over half a tank of gas. Of course, this is with an empty bed. On the way back I used most of the tank, but that is to be expected. But it made me more confident in my driving ability, if I can get such good highway mileage out of a truck, when its owner can't even do that.

All in all, I escaped with a lightly-used wraparound couch, a lovely glass coffee table, and the knowledge that, yes, I can drive a truck, even when I can't see out the back window. Almost died twice, because other people don't like to be considerate or law-abiding and pass only on the left, but you know. Defensive driving pays off.

Then today I got to get up really early, after getting to bed very late, and listen to my boss go on about some crap I already know, and tell me that, no, there is no way for me to get any t-shirts for work instead of the insulating polos we have to wear (one of which isn't even the right size for me). At least I got paid to be there. I also think I might be fighting off a cold, so I hope it does not manifest into a full-blown viral infection, because I have work to work, you know?

What a long entry this has become! Oh well. Read or don't.

On my way to work, I was driving down one of the more country roads leading into town. I was almost to the intersection that would officially put me in civilization, when I saw a crumpled animal by the side of the road. I assumed it was dead. I gave it a wide berth, as I always do, glanced to see what it had been...

... and it kicked.

I pulled over as fast as my brakes would comply, and walked back to it, to see what state it was in.

It was a fawn, probably only a few weeks old. It kicked again as I approached, struggled a bit, but pooling under its head was a disturbing amount of bright red blood. This poor baby couldn't have been hit more than a few minutes ago. In the pool was what I am almost sure can be classified as brain matter.

Someone blindsided this fawn just as it was approaching the road and gave it massive head trauma. It was laying on the healthier side, so I can only imagine what the injury looked like... but there was so much blood, and only originating from one area. At that point, I couldn't be sure if it was kicking in awareness that something was approaching it, or out of a mess of signals running down a ruined spinal cord.

I knew there was nothing that could be done. It had already lost so much blood, and there is no emergency veterinary service in this area that would respond fast enough. I called the sheriff's office, reported that there was a live fawn, badly injured and suffering, and asked if they could please send someone out to put it out of its misery. The operator sounded genuinely sympathetic, not like they sometimes do when you report this sort of thing.

And then I walked away.

And proceeded to bawl uncontrollably.

I felt so horrible, leaving that poor thing there... my presence would probably just scare it, if it still knew what was going on, but... just leaving that poor thing there to die alone? Maybe to be run over again? I had only a few minutes to get to work, but what's a crappy job compared to a new life draining away on sharp pavement?

I always wondered if I'd have the guts to kill something if it meant mercy. I always carry a rather large pocket knife with me out of utility. And now I know that I can't bring myself to slaughter something, no matter how merciful an act it may be.

And I can't believe the bastards who hit it and just left it there. They probably didn't even notice, if they were like most people on these roads, speeding in giant behemoths of vehicles. That fawn was probably just another bug on the windshield.

When I drove by on the way home, there was no sign it had been there. Not even a bloodstain, and believe me, it would've been quite prominent. And I had to wonder how many other bloodstains there have been, how many other lonely deaths at the hands of uncaring, unaware humans who have better things to do than take responsibility for a life they've snuffed out.

And just where have I been, you ask?

Dallas! Again!

But not working this time. No, this time I was up there to wrangle a check out of my aunt for that final 21 hours of work. I am getting more than half of it as soon as I cash one, and the rest has to wait until July, but the point is, I got it. And, she did NOT put it in the mail when she said she did, so I'm glad I decided to go up there when my mother made her spur-of-the-moment decision to get her TV back from the very same aunt. Mom would've gotten the checks for me, but it's better to be there myself and give my aunt The Death Glare, which, evidently, I perfected at a young age and used on my brother regularly.

We also slept on GREAT beds at the Courtyard Marriot. I mean, these beds were just heavenly. I want one. Well worth the money, even though we got there at 2:30 in the morning.

I also got a free foot massage in this store called Brookstone, because they were trying to sell me the massager. It was very relaxing, and my feet don't hurt at all now. I want one of those too, but it is $400 that I have to use to pay off my car, so that's a big no-go. Maybe if I win the lottery.

Of course, the one day I'm in Dallas, both (yes, both) of my friends call me to see if I want to hang out with them. "Love to, but, you know... 300 miles away and all." Of course, I warned no one because I'm just rude like that.

And, the miracle of it all is that my mother and I had absolutely NO disagreements or arguments or anything the ENTIRE time. I thought we might at one point. When we go shopping, she really wants me to want the things she wants me to want, if you get my meaning, and tries to get me to buy them even if I don't care for them at all... sometimes she gets mad if I don't buy them, but you know... even though she's paying, it's still a waste of money that could be put to better use on things I'll actually like and wear.

I actually cried in the fitting room, though. She kept bringing me guys' pants because they were on sale, but the thing about that is that boys don't have legs or asses to speak of, so they really don't fit on my um... full-figured self. It was quite depressing to finally be able to fit my legs into 42-inch pants. Of course the waist was loose, but not as loose as it should be. Damn my fat ass. Anyway, that was very depressing. Also, the fitting room attendant opened the door on me without knocking. Luckily I had a pair of pants mostly on, but the trauma was too much.

But I still walked out of the store with some nice tops.

I won't be able to sleep for a while, because a huge truck almost killed us right as we were coming back into town, so my adrenaline is going nuts, but I can play with these computers Mom gave me, 'cause they don't work right.

And now, to play with Gratch.

Today I got my first DS game - Mario Kart. Best racing game ever. It was a toss-up between Super Mario 64-DS and that one. I actually would've gotten Wario Ware if they'd had it used, but alas, they did not.

I actually got my full shift today at work, and then some. No break, and about ten additional minutes because only one manager was there to oversee things. It was pretty slow, but I still made $17 in tips. Not bad.

I made Dad cry, evidently, with the note I left him before work. I also gave him a print of one of my photos that reminds me of him.

And now I have to go to the bathroom, so, the end.

Took the safety test, which shows that I know how not to pick my nose at work. I got 100% of the questions correct. I also know how not to be a jerk to customers, so I made a perfect score on that test as well. And, I got my first pin to put on my hat. Everyone gets one, but I don't have any to-date, so I felt special. It's good I had that boost, 'cause they cut me off early again, and also I was admonished several times because the managers had nothing better to do. Few people were there.

I also purchased the first Nintendo system that hasn't cost me $100. Pretty sweet deal, from Mnemsyne. She was upgrading anyway, and I bought her old DS for more than a trade-in would get her. Everybody is happy!

Of course, there's a pretty scary looking weather system moving in, so I fear a tornado will demolish my house and car and everything else I've made progress on. But I guess as long as everyone lives, it can't be all bad. Stuff is stuff. Life is not.

For Father's Day I am giving my Dad one of my photo prints. I thought of him when I took it, and every time I look at it, so I think he should have it. I was going to paint him something, but it didn't happen. I also plan to write a heartfelt note about how grateful I am that he has sacrificed so much for me, and helped me keep my sanity when dealing with my mother. I am lucky to have such great parents, even though sometimes they are pretty wacky. Both great drivers, though. I truly feel safe in their respective cars. I could never marry someone who was an unsafe driver.

On the car audio front, this guy at the store is going to check with Panasonic and see if I am missing a remote control or something like that, which may sovle all my problems. He can order it for me, too. I hope that works out, 'cause I really don't have the money for an in-dash CD player, even though I was all ready to buy one once I found out about the changer. I'm glad I couldn't make the decision today. I sometimes buy things to make me feel better. They are never useless purchases, but they are sometimes more than I should spend. CD player money needs to go to paying off what I owe on the car before it goes to accessorizing. My current system works fine for now, anyway. Whoever invented the tape adapter is a genius.

I also feel that way about the inventor of the ceiling fan.