That's not what the Death card means

post 135
written 2006-06-19 17:30:00

Got another job, temp agency came through about a day after I met the usual bureaucratic demands of the foolish government pencil pushers and bean-counters. (I really just wanted to use the expression "bean counters" there. It's factually accurate, though.)

My back still hurts. My recovery via work seemed so direct and miraculous that I figured my pain was at an end, yea, even unto the seventh day post-injury. But no -- so I find myself doing little back exercises and resorting to ice and heat at times.

I fear that Starbucks may be replacing the bagel place as my wi-fi hookup. This is fearsome because Starbucks has a limited supply of anything I want and plays host to a myriad of upper-middle class (middle-upper class?) children spending daddy's money and on-the-go successful businessmen and --women who are really too important for you, you know.

Cursed Starbucks. If only I wanted coffee more frequently, I might be able to forgive them.

Ooh, I got a haircut, to go with the new job. No webcam right now, though, so you don't get to see it. Ha! Suckers! Come see me some time and I'll model the new sartorial splendor. (Don't let the vocab fool you -- it's a Hair Cuttery job.)

--Poe, "Terrible Thought," Haunted

6.19.06, 17:30 PM, which is redundant, but that's what my clock says, so that's what you get, Warrington, PA

[ archives | front page ]