ughhhh

I was all awake and energetic last night and this morning. Now I feel like a truck hit me.

Yesterday afternoon, a speeding car hit a parked car in front of work. Lots of noise. Luckily the cars belonged to no one I knew.

I'm very proud of myself. I got my check in the bank, I've talked to the credit card company, and am paying half this weekend, the balance in 4 weeks. In two weeks, Gateway con hits St. Louis, so I'm semi-budgeting 200 for that. I might even be able to pay off the other card that weekend.

Whee.

Also went shopping, bought two blouses. One I'll wear tomorrow to Mike and Darlene's wedding. The other I'll wear anytime. *happysigh* And, I found bras that fit. Much gladness. Bought two, even though they were fairly pricey.

That's okay. I need them, have for weeks. The one I'm wearing is half-falling apart, and I sag like a cow who hasn't been milked.

Pardon.

Also took my sisters to work, and picked one up from work. God, I've been up forever.

I think I ate in there, somewhere.

I thought of something last night... I've been taking care of one of the condo people's cats, while she's out of town. Just emptying litter boxes, filling water and food dishes... I make more doing that than I do working at the desk.

Very easily can I see myself getting a job for a pet-sitting place. Hrm. Must look into it. Maybe I'll even wander by the pet stores, see if they're still hiring part-time.

The reason?

I do nothing at this job. If I had a computer, I could do so fricking much. But I don't. This is NOT something I can do and make a career out of it. I can't see myself working there in five years. Hell, I can't see myself still working there in ONE year. I hope.

God. I need my dream job. The problem is, I don't know what it would be. Maybe something in computers, where I can do design and copy-writing. Or photos. Or something.

Anything, but sitting at a desk for 7 hours watching dumbass TV shows.

Please.

Now for a rant

This won't have as much venom as it would have last night. Mainly because I'm too tired. I should also warn about a bit of cursing.

I'm not awake enough to go looking for the cut thingie, so if you don't wanna listen to someone needlessly ranting, go away.

Second: This is NOT about Trisha Lynn. Trisha Lynn is a wonderful and fabulous lady who doesn't irritate me in the slightest. Except when she doesn't realise which Preacher I'm referring to. But that's beside the point.

This is about someone I know named Tricia.

She's the chick who got me my current job. No prob, it's a nice thing. But. She's now off her own current job.

My bosses are going on vacation next week, which leaves about 7 7 hour shifts unfilled. Luckily, Anetra, the person *I* found, can fill most of them. Those she can't, we'd LIKE to have Tricia fill.

Tricia decided she was never home, and doesn't use her phone that much, so she had the phone company turn it off

Which means we can't reach her.

Oh, but she has a pager!

Which she never uses.

Well, not when it's OUR number that appears, anyway.

She also has access to email. Don't ask ME how. She spends most of her time at the freak known as Kirby's house. Kirby is skanky. Just plain icky. So is his ex, Colleen. Ugh.

Anyway. THEY have a phone.

So, Don tries a few days of beeping her. No response. So I say I'll email her. I do.

Email says, "Hey. Don says to please give him a call about whether you can work when they're on vacation or not."

So, what's the response?

An email. What part of "DON SAYS TO PLEASE GIVE HIME A CALL" did she not fucking understand?

Because of that, I had to call Don, and get all of the info from him to email her. When it would have been so much simpler if she'd picked up a fucking phone (like *I* did!) and called Don!

Don is not very happy with her, thanks to this.

He's also irritated she didn't just call.

*I* am just plain pissed about it. Hell, I was having trouble calming down last night when I was awake. She's lucky the email I sent in reply didn't say ANY of the things I was thinking.

I tend to be realllly formal when irritated.

Repeating myself: What was so fucking hard about picking up the PHONE? It's 7 numbers to dial, and BOOM. Questions answered!!

Aaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrghh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It makes me want to slap her. It really does.

Anyway. Rant over. Unless I feel like screaming some more.