Transformers Update: Apparently, the firetruck I got can connect with like, four or five other different Transformers (in different combinations) to make the bigger, badder, more literate (I guess?) Autobot warrior. So I have some options as far as who to partner him up with. This is heavy stuff.
However, between phone bill, insurance, and stuff for my car (which apparently doesn't realize how down I am with the Transformers, else it wouldn't fuck me over so often), I don't know if I can drop $10-15 to get another Transformer on this paycheck. So for now, "Inferno" is sitting solo on my computer desk, hopefully guarding against intruders and communists.
In other news, my job sucks. I just got a HUGE raise... however, that means I have to play nice with the two dumbass highschool dropout assistant managers we have. Despite the fact that I've been working at [Pizza Place] for two years now, these two supposed "managers" show up with "managerial experience", and now like three months later they think they can boss my shit around.
Well, somehow I went from almost getting fired to getting a huge raise. I don't know what anyone said in my defense, but it worked. I was about ready to quit anyways, after my manager proved his frail, girly-man loyalty. I've probably been working there longer than everone save one or two guys, and the place is very high-turnover; why he thought to cater to Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Fatass Loser (not Tweedle-Dee, Tweedle-Fatass Loser) over me is beyond logic.
So yeah, I have to behave now. Although if Tweedle-Fatass decides to pull the "because I told you so" shit on me again when he needs a manual to do his own job, he'll get the same response he always gets; the back of my head as I walk away laughing.
It's ok, it's just life. It's supposed to be weird and complicated and pointless and drive you a little crazy. If it doesn't, then you're either already crazy, or you don't realize you're dead.
PS: Has anyone been to Club Requiem here in Phoenix? It's supposed to be a Goth club, and until the other night, I didn't know Phoenix HAD Goth clubs (other than the Killing Jar at the Mason Jar, I guess). If anyone's been there, I expect a full report on my desk in the morning. Or Inferno the Autobot will use his missile to pierce sensitive body parts.
However, between phone bill, insurance, and stuff for my car (which apparently doesn't realize how down I am with the Transformers, else it wouldn't fuck me over so often), I don't know if I can drop $10-15 to get another Transformer on this paycheck. So for now, "Inferno" is sitting solo on my computer desk, hopefully guarding against intruders and communists.
In other news, my job sucks. I just got a HUGE raise... however, that means I have to play nice with the two dumbass highschool dropout assistant managers we have. Despite the fact that I've been working at [Pizza Place] for two years now, these two supposed "managers" show up with "managerial experience", and now like three months later they think they can boss my shit around.
Well, somehow I went from almost getting fired to getting a huge raise. I don't know what anyone said in my defense, but it worked. I was about ready to quit anyways, after my manager proved his frail, girly-man loyalty. I've probably been working there longer than everone save one or two guys, and the place is very high-turnover; why he thought to cater to Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Fatass Loser (not Tweedle-Dee, Tweedle-Fatass Loser) over me is beyond logic.
So yeah, I have to behave now. Although if Tweedle-Fatass decides to pull the "because I told you so" shit on me again when he needs a manual to do his own job, he'll get the same response he always gets; the back of my head as I walk away laughing.
It's ok, it's just life. It's supposed to be weird and complicated and pointless and drive you a little crazy. If it doesn't, then you're either already crazy, or you don't realize you're dead.
PS: Has anyone been to Club Requiem here in Phoenix? It's supposed to be a Goth club, and until the other night, I didn't know Phoenix HAD Goth clubs (other than the Killing Jar at the Mason Jar, I guess). If anyone's been there, I expect a full report on my desk in the morning. Or Inferno the Autobot will use his missile to pierce sensitive body parts.
Ok ok now you have to buy ALL of them. no questions.