More work-related feces

Anyone notice the fact that I can put pictures on here now? Any sets of pictures will still go in the photo albums, but just single pictures that I feel like putting up, I'll put them up as separate posts. Check below for 2 birthday shout-outs.

It's hilarious that I actually had a small glimmer of hope that Co-op would actually make a rational proposal about my future with this company. After everything I've done (I refuse to laundry list it all again), their only guaranteed proposal for promotion involves me going back to somewhere I really don't want to go back to.

It's also hilarious that the activities of Tuesday night involved me having to make a move to another place that would be almost as bad to go back to. What's even funnier than that (it's been an amusing week) is how much lifer heat this drew me, like I needed any more.

This kind of heat makes it so that new friends I make like Aleta & Amanda have to come up to me and ask "so why do most cashiers over 30 think you're such a prima donna? You're not a prima donna." Then I gotta come back with "They're just jealous whores", but s*it. That line makes me look like a prima donna! F*ckin' A. I'm trying not to let Co-op turn me into a crabby young man, but here I am in ECON260 writing about how much I hate the politics.

Therefore, I hate everyone and everything in the world right now, including all of you. Unless you're name is Sharon Norohna. Why, you ask? Because she's turned into my human pencil case of sorts, she always wears pink despite constant ridicule, she rubs my head (get your minds out of the gutter, you pigs), and she's hooking me up with an outline of the MKTG315 test.

Oh... and Matt. I don't hate Matt. 'Cause thanks to him, I now have like... a thousand dirty hooker jokes. Buckle up for those. Point is, when I rule the world, Matt & Sharon's deaths will be quick and painless. Unlike the rest of you, who will suffer unimaginable horrors like having to listen to me rap/karaoke/sing "Rapper's Delight". The-entire-song.

Andrea has guaranteed herself a place in the "slow and painful" section (also known as the smoking section) of the B.a.D death books, due to her holding up & reading a newspaper for everyone to see in class (like Dave needed any more indication that we don't listen to him), and sprawling it out all over the desk and my hands, which is currently f*cking with my mouse navigation & operation.

Me... Nicole... Fiasco Gelato... 10 o'clock... Going.

Up yours, hoseheads.

PS: Sorry for the comments that we're on here, but I actually ended up having to re-post this when I started playing around with my new picture tool, and the comments we're lost. Go f*ck yourselves.