July 10, 2002 :: 11:25 a.m.
instant concrete - always the right amount
Freaky Google things: someone translated my diary
into German, and someone searched for "amanda amputee," which kind of creeps me out. For obvious reasons, I think.
So anyway, I'm at my house, taking care of the kitties and waiting for some packages to arrive. It's great fun, only not. My mom just called, to see how things are. They're getting ready to take the chillins (read: children) to the zoo. Things are fine, I say. And they are. I kind of wish I could go down for a day, hang around at the beach and what not, but I know that once I got down there I wouldn't enjoy it anyway. I'm not a beach person. Too many people, too much exposed flesh. That sort of thing. And I don't really dig zoos. In any case, I work tomorrow, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, so it really isn't even worth thinking about.
Ugh. I really don't want to go to work tomorrow. The temptation to call off is growing by the nanosecond. I know I shouldn't, but dammit, I'm lazy and ornery and I do not want to spend all day taking orders from business-people who think that carrying a briefcase is an excuse to leave all their manners at home. And Stewart's out of town, so if I call off they'll be short a person, and I'm closing. But fucking hell. I hate closing. Roy knows that, dammit. So I don't know. I'm torn.
I'm supposed to call Amanda and stuff. So I'm going to do that now. Bye.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
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