• Why…

    … do I start to develop coldlike symptoms after being at work for 4 or 5 hours or so? Inquiring, and slightly irritated, minds want to know.

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  • Yup, it’s friday.

    And like anyone on any friday, I find myself very, very reluctant to actually go to work. Is that bad? Survey says… signs are hazy, ask again later. Ah well, at least there’s an interest there I might be able to catch for another little conversation before my shift starts. I shall leave the rough translation to your imagination–specifics from me you will not get. Deal.

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  • Adios, reality.

    Welp, it’s official. After 82 miniutes, Nicole Richie’s one free flake. If it were you or me, we’d get nailed with a year. Hell, if it were me, they’d nail me with a year and shoot the idiot who let me drive. The irony is, little missy Hilton spent a grand total of 3 weeks in the exact same place for the exact same thing. It must really, really be all kinds of awesome to have money.

  • Now there’s a baseball game I’d love to watch.

    30 runs scored, and not for the home team. Texas 30, Baltimore… a grand total of… drumroll please… 3. Oh. My. Lord. Not since, and I feel shamed to admit it, Toronto lost 22 to 2 15 years ago did we see something like that. And not since the 1800’s before that. Or so history’s quoting us, at least. Um, ow. I’d feel bad for Baltimore, except–um, they’re in the same division as toronto. And anything bad for them has gotta be good for toronto. If I tell myself that often enough, the same might hold true for the Leafs. But we’re not talking about them. Not until October 15th. Or sooner if the withdrawal gets to me.

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  • God, I hope I get a raise.

    Performance reviews are coming up at work. And the timing rocks. I just checked my mail this afternoon, and apparently, my land lord just got approval to jack up the rent by about 2% by April of next year. For those of you who haven’t quite caught on yet, yeah, that all kinds of sucks. I like having money–not giving away money. I’ll be keeping an eye on the rental demands over the next bit… something tells me, though, I may be looking for a new hole to crawl into when my lease ends. Stupid land lord. Stupid rent. Stupid money I don’t have. Stupid me for not having it. I want a raise.

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  • A smattering of update.

    Because I only have a couple minutes before my shift starts.

    • My late birthday present, one hell of a computer, should be shipping today. It’s about time.
    • Apparently, the storm we got yesterday took out my internet service, and Sympatico decided to conveniently state there were no service outages in the area. Disproven. That didn’t take long.
    • For the record, when dealing with internet issues, it so should not take over 24 hours to solve. Of course, the only reason it did was because I only bothered to sit down and fight with it just before I had to go to work yesterday–also shitty, but it’s a paycheck.
    • Completely and totally not related in any way, shape or form to… um, anything else in this post. Not that this post has any actual point to it as it is, but oh well. Oh my. Identical twins is kinda funky enough. But 4? Freakin’ 4? Well, could be more unusual I guess.

    And I have managed to make writing this entry last past my having taken my first call. Suhweet. I think.

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  • It should be legal to show up to work naked.

    According to certain forecasts, it’s upwards of 33 degrees C outside right now. Which, ordinarily, wouldn’t be unexpected. Except it’s 6:00 PM for crying out loud. And by the time I get off work tomorrow morning, it’s supposed to still feel like 30 degrees out there. And to that, all I can say is… oh. Crap. Take your clothes off and the first 2 layers of skin and tell me if you still feel warm. On the bright side, there’s at least a breeze out there. This bit of optimism is dampened slightly, though, by the fact that said breeze is not exactly what I’d call cool. If anyone wants to convert this to that stupid system the US uses, go nuts. Just don’t tell me if you do–33 degrees C almost makes me wanna cry as it is. I don’t need to hear a higher number.

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  • Now that’s a reason to buy me a scanner.

    I’m on a couple scanning related mailing lists–police scanning, for those of you wondering, and as soon as the southern Ontario runaway was spotted near the Renfrew area, both mailing lists I”m on went absolutely nuts. Which is probably an understatement for the amount of radio trafic they were listening to. They eventually arrested the guy when he came out of an unoccupied home in the area. You may see it on the news–and, possibly, you may have seen something about it if you watch America’s Most Wanted. He’s heading to London to stand trial for 3 murders, apparently. Including the murders of the elderly couple who’s truck he stole to get up here. Now you know what you can buy me for Christmas. ๐Ÿ˜‰
    here’s a clip of the radio trafic that resulted from the arrest last night. Thanks to one of the guys on said scanner lists for providing this clip. People living north of the border, consider this your advanced headline news notification. With the typical James twist–I wish Canada still had the death penalty.

  • So my attempt to blog more than once a week goes kinda like this.

    Weekend starts today. The last time I’ll have Sunday-Tuesday off. Starting next week, it’ll be Saturday-Monday instead. And… so far, all I know is there will be… probably some coffee, definitely some time spent with the next best thing to a sister, and maybe some beach. Not a bad start to a 3-day weekend. Now if I can figure out just what I plan to do for the other 2 days I’ll be in business. Ah, who am I kidding? The rule is simple–whether it’s not being home for 3 days, or spending the next 2 sleeping, until Wednesday night at 7:00 when I head out the door, I officially have no job. And it’s going to be shweet. Hm. I should be sleeping instead of going out this afternoon. Ah well. I’ll sleep plenty when I’m dead.

  • There goes another one.

    You can thank Lindsay Lohan for answering my question. She has decided cellebrity stupidity deserves its own category, after this latest Hilton immitation. Maybe I’m wrong, but methinks 2007 is the year of the moron. Folks, this is why you see those shows that strongly advertise don’t try this at home–if you’re an average joe, it’s irresponsible and you probably wind up in a whole huge lot of oh shit. If you’re… oh, I dunno, Lindsay, you wind up with a slap on the wrist. And a jail sentence that’s more like a stay at a luxurious hotel. Oh, wait, wrong dits. Moving on.

    Update:

    Looks like they found drugs on her, too, which she’s promptly said aren’t hers. Yup, I believe you. Honest.

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