Andare, Partire, Tornare

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it's just too fucking stupid

Oy, the angst. Let's just say that everybody is pretending very hard right now that everything has been settled with Bemo and the band, and it's easier to be polite than to get into other people's faces.

I don't know. Sometimes guys are strange. Maybe they all forgive a little easier than I would, because I'm pretty sure that I'd have been a little less friendly. In a passive-aggressive way, mind you (because I'm a total pussy and dread confrontation) but...

Well, anyway. I'm not giving all the details, because it would take forever to tell that particular story, so I'm sure I'm boring the shit out of everybody. I'll move off that topic.

Worked another fanshmabulous ten hour shift at the 'Mart. Considering carrying a stun gun to zap people who ask blatantly idiotic questions.

At least I get Monday off. Will have to phone Cher to see if she wants to drive to Stafford with me. Bemo can't come, as he's got a temp job that week.

I'm just so frigging angry at things right now. It's like I've been dragged face-first through a swamp, and even though it's all over with now, I still smell boggy and rancid.

11:18 p.m. - 2003-10-11

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