2000-11-17. Work? Nah...
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AAHHH!!! I'm at work. I think this may become a work diary, especially since my broke-ass doesn't own a computer any more, this is the only chance I have to feel in touch with the technology that makes our world bleed from our own megabytes. Is that a bit melodramatic? I guess so... I just got busted for slacking, but it wasn't by my "superiors" it was by the guy who's "no longer the youngest in the office" (hint: replaced by cranky bleached haired girl with freaky screensavers). But I do work... Sometimes... I'm a TEMP whatddaya want???

So the frustaration of the day is: Buying booze online. If you plug in "alcohol" into Dogpile all that you really get in rehab centers and info on fetal alcohol syndrome, blah blah, blah. I just want to find a bottle of yellow Chartreuse!! Is that too much to ask? Apparently so. I may have to just suck it up and tuck my tail between my legs and pay a visit to the job I quit in a huff and ask where to buy it. Such is life.

Well, the need to make water is increasing, and I must be anal about my desk before I go.

Ya ya ya