Monday, February 06, 2006
Random
Phone call at 7:30 this morning - it's my day off - I knew who it was, so I ignored it this time. Get up a little later, and check the answering service, sure enough it's work. Ha, no thank you, I'm not going to work 8 days in a row, but I appreciate the concern.
I'm not entirely sure the new manager is better than the old manager. I believe that she is more capable, but right now she's running around like a chicken with her head cut off and is just messing everything up and pissing everyone off. There's no end in sight, no end to the madness. The other night she had a staff meeting, and it was the same night that I had decided that I was going to play in the pick-up game at the one-rink-that-exists-here-in-Eugene. I've been mostly playing in-line hockey the past few years, and it's great amounts of fun, but nothing can compare to playing on ice. Anyway, this stupid meeting was scheduled for the same evening as the game and the damn thing just kept going and going and I became more bitter, and bitter.
Didn't watch the SuperBowl. Didn't care. Unless players have skates, sticks and a puck, then I'm not interested. Lethal weapons make a sport so much more interesting.
CoffeeKate, suggests I rant about the woman situation - I think she meant about how people are moody and you can never really tell what the fuck is going on inside people's heads and I wish that I was psychic, because people actually appear to believe that I am when they expect me to know things that have never been explained to me.
Actually I think Eugenians, or perhaps Oregonians, are actually psychic and expect everyone else to be so too. It's the only reason I can come up with as to why people around here always think I know what the hell is going on about things that I have never been exposed to or told about. If you want me to know something, then frick'n tell me about it before demanding an answer to your nebulous question.
So, I've come up with this equation to explain Eugenians: Eugenians = psychic + needy. I think that covers it.
I'm beginning to think my apartment smells a little funky...I hate not knowing whether or not there are foul smells lurking about my living quarters or if I've just become used to the scents and oblivious. I spend a lot of time worrying about things like this.
I'm not entirely sure the new manager is better than the old manager. I believe that she is more capable, but right now she's running around like a chicken with her head cut off and is just messing everything up and pissing everyone off. There's no end in sight, no end to the madness. The other night she had a staff meeting, and it was the same night that I had decided that I was going to play in the pick-up game at the one-rink-that-exists-here-in-Eugene. I've been mostly playing in-line hockey the past few years, and it's great amounts of fun, but nothing can compare to playing on ice. Anyway, this stupid meeting was scheduled for the same evening as the game and the damn thing just kept going and going and I became more bitter, and bitter.
Didn't watch the SuperBowl. Didn't care. Unless players have skates, sticks and a puck, then I'm not interested. Lethal weapons make a sport so much more interesting.
CoffeeKate, suggests I rant about the woman situation - I think she meant about how people are moody and you can never really tell what the fuck is going on inside people's heads and I wish that I was psychic, because people actually appear to believe that I am when they expect me to know things that have never been explained to me.
Actually I think Eugenians, or perhaps Oregonians, are actually psychic and expect everyone else to be so too. It's the only reason I can come up with as to why people around here always think I know what the hell is going on about things that I have never been exposed to or told about. If you want me to know something, then frick'n tell me about it before demanding an answer to your nebulous question.
So, I've come up with this equation to explain Eugenians: Eugenians = psychic + needy. I think that covers it.
I'm beginning to think my apartment smells a little funky...I hate not knowing whether or not there are foul smells lurking about my living quarters or if I've just become used to the scents and oblivious. I spend a lot of time worrying about things like this.
