teardrops in a heartbeat, body in the backseat.

Hullo my freaky darlings! How goes the winds?

I am fading away langorously with my much commercialized job.

Whoever came up with the line "The customer is always right" should be shot and hanged, and doubly so if he's dead already. I cannot stand the sheer stupidity of certain customres, the immense of audacity and rudeness they have. It is their incredible insistence that they are Gods and I am a lowly insect that infuriates me.

Never had I such a loathing for a place. This place has turned me evil, vile, pessimistic. I want nothing but to end the day the moment I step in; slash my wrists with paper; hang myself with the phone cord.

The nice ones cannot redeem me from selling my soul.

I am Faustus.

The job is my Mephistopheles.

I am doomed.


Anyway, so much for the melodramatics which could have been summed up in: My Job Sucks. Three simple words, fabulously extended to a hundred odd worded piece. Wonderful, ain't it?

Right now, I only have an exciting day of Wii (YES YOU GOT THAT RIGHT) fun at Leon's house to keep me going for the next few days. I'm depending on the joyous after-effect of molesting his Wii to keep me going for the rest of the week after Monday.

Yes, it is that bad.

I must leave soon or I will develop an adverse allergy to books, much like the babies in Brave New World. I need to keep myself, myself.