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happy bastille day
Jul. 14th, 2004 09:18 pmUnconsciously I think I realized sometime today that it was Bastille Day because I've been thinking in French more than usual. And my mum and a friend, Allison's mum, went out for lunch at a yummy French restaurant. And I've been muttering tidbits of Sartrerian existentialism (ooh, doesn't that sound impressive) to myself and have probably garnered several quizzical looks from my co-workers. Thankfully I managed to turn in my short story for my CrWr class an hour before the deadline (a first!), and it was decent for once. Sure, there wasn't much of a plot, but it was more subtle than some other awful wastes of computer disk space I've come up with.
I'm starting to realize the full impact of hell week at work. The concert's on Sunday, and I'm still not sure about what I'm doing that day. I don't have a backstage pass, either, so that really limits what I can do. I guess I'll have to just scrounge around the database, open up the template backstage pass file, change it, and print one with my name on it. Tee hee! But I ought to ask Linda first.
The first two and twenty two minutes I was at work I couldn't even leave my desk for a minute to fax a map before the phone rang. And I had ten messages on my answering machine. Craziness, but thankfully craziness that has bought up lawn tickets. Now I only recognize about two thirds of the people in the lawn/chair ticket sales binders; I used to recognize every single name. And there must be at least three hundred and fifty people's orders in there. I wouldn't even talk about all of the stinkin' filing I've had to do. Ugh, and I have problems alphabetizing things, but so does Susan so I don't feel so bad.
For some reason whenever I was doing something silly and mildly embarassing (i.e. carrying a bunch of SS t-shirts on top of my head) Todd would come in, and Linda would be out in the hallway outside of my box of a mini-office laughing at me. Or rather, just about EVERYONE would be lingering out in the hallway by my office, and the door's always open. Linda has officially gone mad, and she owes me a total of three bucks for swearing. Hahahahaha.
Susan said that my handwriting is lovely, which really made me laugh. My mum's threatened to make me take up handwriting lessons to help change my half-cursive half-print scrawl into something more legible, and maybe even more elegant. Susan's been exceptionally kind to me. I've said that before, and I'll say it again.
Christina rather calmly told me while I was working on an archive project for Isabel that there were two prank calls in the morning while she was answering the SS hotline. One was female, and she didn't say what the girl said. The other was a male caller apparently trying to order a pizza. This other one really puzzles me because I can only think of two guys who have my work phone number (i.e. hotline number). And I don't think it could be either person, because one's in Greece and has used up the rest of his phone card. And I don't know what Franck has been doing, but the caller didn't have a Canadian French accent. At the moment I'm settling on one of Julie's brothers. Just curious, but would any of you happen to know who either person was?
Christina and I been getting along better within these last two days, but that might be because we don't really talk to each other, and I haven't played any of my music for two days. Today she was listening to French rap, which was terribly amusing and disturbing at the same time. Unfortunately I could figure out what the rappers were saying, but I'm pretty sure she couldn't. And if she did understand she'd probably be horrified.
My driving was terrible later this afternoon, but I managed to pull in straight into the garage for the first time. I scraped a little of the right front tire hub when I hit the curb in the Pleasantville high street because I was making a right turn too soon. And I felt rather panicky because Cathy was hit by a car. I'm not sure if I want to go on parking practice this weekend with Dad. Driving's made me a lot more nervous lately, but I can get to the YMCA in the mornings pretty well now. I'm actually working out with Dad there in the mornings before work so that I'm not a complete lazy slob. I suppose that now I'm less of one.
Guess who hasn't turned in her internship journal entry due last Friday. Ooops.
"I plot and scheme. It's how a queen in prison spends her time."
-The Lion in Winter
I'm starting to realize the full impact of hell week at work. The concert's on Sunday, and I'm still not sure about what I'm doing that day. I don't have a backstage pass, either, so that really limits what I can do. I guess I'll have to just scrounge around the database, open up the template backstage pass file, change it, and print one with my name on it. Tee hee! But I ought to ask Linda first.
The first two and twenty two minutes I was at work I couldn't even leave my desk for a minute to fax a map before the phone rang. And I had ten messages on my answering machine. Craziness, but thankfully craziness that has bought up lawn tickets. Now I only recognize about two thirds of the people in the lawn/chair ticket sales binders; I used to recognize every single name. And there must be at least three hundred and fifty people's orders in there. I wouldn't even talk about all of the stinkin' filing I've had to do. Ugh, and I have problems alphabetizing things, but so does Susan so I don't feel so bad.
For some reason whenever I was doing something silly and mildly embarassing (i.e. carrying a bunch of SS t-shirts on top of my head) Todd would come in, and Linda would be out in the hallway outside of my box of a mini-office laughing at me. Or rather, just about EVERYONE would be lingering out in the hallway by my office, and the door's always open. Linda has officially gone mad, and she owes me a total of three bucks for swearing. Hahahahaha.
Susan said that my handwriting is lovely, which really made me laugh. My mum's threatened to make me take up handwriting lessons to help change my half-cursive half-print scrawl into something more legible, and maybe even more elegant. Susan's been exceptionally kind to me. I've said that before, and I'll say it again.
Christina rather calmly told me while I was working on an archive project for Isabel that there were two prank calls in the morning while she was answering the SS hotline. One was female, and she didn't say what the girl said. The other was a male caller apparently trying to order a pizza. This other one really puzzles me because I can only think of two guys who have my work phone number (i.e. hotline number). And I don't think it could be either person, because one's in Greece and has used up the rest of his phone card. And I don't know what Franck has been doing, but the caller didn't have a Canadian French accent. At the moment I'm settling on one of Julie's brothers. Just curious, but would any of you happen to know who either person was?
Christina and I been getting along better within these last two days, but that might be because we don't really talk to each other, and I haven't played any of my music for two days. Today she was listening to French rap, which was terribly amusing and disturbing at the same time. Unfortunately I could figure out what the rappers were saying, but I'm pretty sure she couldn't. And if she did understand she'd probably be horrified.
My driving was terrible later this afternoon, but I managed to pull in straight into the garage for the first time. I scraped a little of the right front tire hub when I hit the curb in the Pleasantville high street because I was making a right turn too soon. And I felt rather panicky because Cathy was hit by a car. I'm not sure if I want to go on parking practice this weekend with Dad. Driving's made me a lot more nervous lately, but I can get to the YMCA in the mornings pretty well now. I'm actually working out with Dad there in the mornings before work so that I'm not a complete lazy slob. I suppose that now I'm less of one.
Guess who hasn't turned in her internship journal entry due last Friday. Ooops.
"I plot and scheme. It's how a queen in prison spends her time."
-The Lion in Winter
