Gaslighting Abbie... it's a luscious invention for three.

Sweet.

Yesterday I learned that you can only eat so many bowls of peas before you... really start to dislike peas.
I couldn't stop myself; I just had to finish them off.

Weeeeellll, I had a job interview today with a cafe that's going to open in the new EcoMotion building on 16th and Sandy.
Oh wait, that's like right down the street.
Oh wait, it's starts out at $9/hr plus tips.

Oh wa--sometimes I feel like Kathy Griffin when I talk and/or type.
Nobody likes to feel like Kathy Griffin, not even Kathy Griffin.

Anyway, it went about as perfect as a job interview could go. I wouldn't have to wear a polyester uniform. It's right down the street from the infamous apartment and I will definitely have enough money to eat real food without fearing that I'm going to overdraft the debit card.

Though, what will the blog become when it's no longer a place to harbor my angsty complaints about customers and how officially mentally handicapped they are when it comes to making important decisions such as:
Small popcorn or medium popcorn.
Diet coke or sprite.
Cappuccino or latte. Wait, what's a cappuccino, is that one of those ice-y things with the whipped cream on top? Yeah, I'll definitely have one of those. Oh, it's not one of those? It's what? Real coffee? Ew, I don't want that.

Anyway, I fear talking about the job is going to piss off the universe and I'm not going to get it so let's all just SHUT UP about it already.
God, stop asking me; I'll know by Thursday.


Yes, chew on that one for a while.
Good thing I'm not in school so I don't qualify as an honor student--BWAH HAHA--shhh.

It's more or less 4am so really, this behavior should be expected.

I'm going to bed.

"I've done it with a girl, intercourse-wise."

Turn to the blog when cleaning needs to be done.

The recent return to Myspace has ignited a somewhat strong desire to fill out a generic and lame survey... or two... twelve.
I remember the Livejournal days when all I did was sit on the computer, listening to Radiohead and the Trainspotting soundtrack and filling out a 110-question survey after survey after survey.
Did I mention it was always raining?
Ah hahaha, high school's great.

I've just returned from Fred Meyer and I am proud to say that I now own a real shower curtain and more than four pieces of silverware.
Life is progressing along nicely.

My ridiculous neighbors are sawing something right outside my window.
Hopefully they've realized it's too early in the afternoon to start Happy Hour(s)...

I'm wondering, do you think they have AlphaBits in foreign countries? KanjiBits and whatnot...
This question has been bothering me for most of the morning.


TFD Random Picture Generator

According to Wikipedia and Google: nay, there is no such thing as Foreign Frosted AlphaBits.
I bet I'd make millions...

Push it to the East coast.

We do love the beach.
I wish I could make that show longer; show off some of my excellent marina and/or beach scenery shots.
Ah haha...

Those who are too smart to engage in politics are punished by being governed by those who are dumber.

Go here.

and

Read this.

Hey, yeah! And while you're at it, why don't you just come sit in my living room and watch television with me while I eat my Cheerios, you jackasses.

And now this!



or



You decide!
(I did make that myself, thank you very much. Are you going to start a file of me at the Pentagon? Make sure you include my angry rant about giving customers change; that will prove to be very useful in court, I'm sure.)

Nothing like a little 5 am political injustice to start out the day.

Second floor living without a yard.

I set my alarm for the single digits of the morning with the full intention of waking up and doing a clean sweep of the apartment. My mom is flying in early tomorrow morning and apparently I'm hosting a party tonight.
I say "apparently" because I was just informed of this yesterday.
"Yeah, remember how we wanted to do something? Well the only available place is yours and everybody said they would help with the cleaning so..."
Thanks, guys.

Anyway, no matter what time I set my alarm I'm completely incapable of getting up before noon nowadays. Unless it's because I have to be at work at some ungodly hour in the morning.
This summer has taught me the true meaning of "eight days a week."
I feel like I should just set up a military cot in the employee break room of Reg and save myself some gas.

I wrote an angry rant at work. I feel it's safe to post it on here without being criticized because I doubt anybody has been checking up on my progress.
I know I haven't... been checking up on my progress.

I thought I had a pretty pessimistic and jaded view of human beings before I started working at Reg but I have to say, witnessing such stupidity and irrationality every day has brought my disdain far beyond any heights that I could've imagined a few years ago. These days, the majority of my customers make me want to rip of my own head and hurl it against the nearest wall.
I'm sorry that I can't make change for you but before you give me a dirty look and say something to the extent of "real nice" maybe you should stop for a split second and think to yourself how being rude to me because I'm just doing my job is going to benefit anyone... except maybe Satan to just added another reason to the list of incentives as to why you're going directly to Hell.
Maybe you should rethink your decision to spend fifty cents on a pitiful little handful of stale candy. Maybe you should stop over-reacting to the whole walking-thirty-steps-to-get-change-from-a-different-location situation. Are you acting like a dickhead? Yes. Is walking a short amount of feet going to kill you? No. Is going without a handful of candy that may or may not tip you closer and closer to obesity going to cause you any suffering? I don't think so.
I don't feel sorry for you. I'd do it if it were a life or death situation and the only way to save you was to open my register against the rules to get you some change. I may sympathize with you a little bit because I know how annoying it is to be presented with a coin machine that tricks you into wasting precious seconds--possibly even minutes of your time that could've been spent shoveling massive amounts of popcorn into your mouth.
I may sympathize, until you give me a dirty look and start walking away halfway through my sentence that was only meant to help you. At that point, my truest and deepest feeling is that you can take that dollar and shove it right up your ass. Because you are not special and I don't give a damn about how much you wanted that candy or how far you had to lumber out of the theater to get it.
You are just a peon in an endless sea of insignificant peons. That's the way the world is and I'm sorry if your mommy told you differently.

Also,



Johnny Depp, again? Really?
Let's find some new blood to exploit.

The Queen of Hearts she made some tarts...

Well, it's definitely 3:15 in the morning.

Well, I definitely swallowed my pride, pulled my head out of my ass and set up a Myspace account.

http://www.myspace.com/mirkfilst

Go pimp me out to your friends, as I currently only have two and they don't count because they were the ones who forced me into it in the first place.

Weird, deja vu situation going on just there.

"I'm just saying, seventies boobs were different, that's all."

"It makes your oral hole wet! Your oral hole is wet! What does that mean?! God damn it!"

Ah hahaha, I will never get over that.

As I only have five channels and I can't receive TBN, I'm watching KATU infomercials.
I'm watching one for the "Chic Shaper," which is an undergarment that goes over your bra but under your clothes that "lifts, corrects, and perfects!"
I feel like I've just been transported back to the fifties, but instead of sweater sets I'm being forced to look at low-cut V-necks that show off as much as possible without forcing the network to use some strategically placed back bars.
I think my favorite part of this deep and insightful piece of entertainment is the male announcer relaying the shipping information. Obviously reading from a cue card, the guy is delivering lines such as, "Chic Shaper is the hottest new shaping sensation!" with the gusto of a person who has been reading off passages of Hawthorne to the residents of a nursing home for the past four hours.

What really ties this all together and makes this exceptionally disgusting is that after watching for ten minutes, I kind of want to try out the Chic Shaper for myself.
Ugh, how repulsive.