Anogete's Journal

A co-worker of mine is investigating a few positions on a potential research team. Apparently, an acquaintance of hers is married to a gentleman who has just begun his own company and is attempting to gain a government contract for some sort of scientific research. She was unable to say what sort of research. At any rate, if he gets the five-year contract, he will need a staff of sixty people--scientists and research assistants to keep material organized. The contract will be awarded at the end of the month. If it is awarded to him (instead of Lockheed Martin), there is a chance I could slip in there as a research assistant to one of the scientists. I've heard the pay is stellar. Which would be so nice. But I'm not counting my chickens before they hatch and all. There are a great deal of ifs involved in this situation.

This makes me laugh each time I see it...

( qi fun )

The new guy was not ready for my ire this morning. The daily newspaper had done an article on a popular member of Twitter. As I was pouring my morning liter of water he walked into the room and I said, "I fucking hate Twitter." He asked why, and I responded, "It's just another indication of the waning attention span of this society." He nodded slowly and backed out of the room. No offense to any of you who may use Twitter. I just can't use it myself, and I don't read any 'tweets' because the one sentence thing isn't my favorite method of communication. I'm not big on text messaging either. I was just feeling especially grouchy this morning. And no one reads books any longer.

Also, this is a graph of my happiness during the day:

( wheee! )

I am fairly sure my current mood was derived from multiple sources, the foremost being my three-hour romp at the Motor Vehicle Department during two different instances today. However, the role of severe PMS cannot be discounted as another major contributing factor.

( oh god, the bitching )

I'm an idiot. And I hate PMS. I also hate: the MVD, everyone who left me a voice mail message at work, half of my co-workers, the fact that I didn't work out today, my vagina, razor burn, leg hair, work in general, mildew in the shower, the world.

EDIT: And to top all this off... I sent my mother some of the pictures I had taken at the park--the ones I posted here last week. I linked each picture in my Photobucket separately instead of giving her the address of my Photobucket account. My mother was whining to my brother about having to click on each picture separately, and my effin' brother showed her how to modify the URL to access my Photobucket. Dammit! Traitor! Now my mother has access to all my weirdness, which includes all the pictures of fictional characters I go goo-goo over and possibly other embarrassing pictures I wouldn't necessarily want her to see because they may or may not be offensive. In the grand scheme of things, not a big deal. I'm not going to die of embarrassment anytime soon. But is nothing sacred, little brother? Can't your big sis have her fandom fun without you showing mom all her dirty little online sekrets? I didn't tell her about the anime porn you downloaded years ago. Not even the tentacle porn you had on the family computer.

::bangs head on desk::

My computer blew up. Literally. Okay, it didn't exactly blow up into pieces, but it was snapping/popping and smoking yesterday evening when I tried to turn it on. After ten minutes of nervous pacing, I decided to open the damn thing up to see if there were scorch marks along the circuitry. Thankfully, everything looked in order. From the location of the smoke (and smell) I deduced that the problem was the power supply. I called several computer repair places, but no one was in. I finally called a small operation run out of a gentleman's home. He answered the phone and confirmed my suspicions about the power supply. Thankfully, his hourly rates were extremely low ($35/hr!) and he said he may be able to obtain a used power supply for $25. I've got my fingers crossed that the blown-up power supply is the only problem. I don't have all of my files backed up, and I might cry if I lose them all or have to buy a new computer when I wasn't really planning on it. I was in the midst of preparing myself for a Mac, but I'm just not ready to make the leap yet.

So, I packed Ferguson, my lunch, and the computer up in the car this morning at 8:30 so I could drop the computer off to be repaired at 9:00. Ferguson promptly threw up in his bed on my passenger seat on the way there. I managed to clean it up with napkins from the glove box. I dropped the computer off, paid the diagnosis fee, and drove to work. Halfway there, Ferguson threw up a second time. I cleaned it up again. We got to work. He threw up on the sidewalk. I took his bed into the bathroom to clean it. He threw up on the tile. Argg. There's nothing wrong with him. He isn't sick; he just gets like this when something out of the ordinary happens. Typical, nervous chihuahua. I do plan on asking the vet when we go next Saturday if there is anything I can do to prevent the barfing when my routine changes. It's rather tedious, especially if we're in the car.

Work is work. I'm annoyed with almost everyone. The receptionist is back to school this week, and we don't have anyone to answer the phones until 2pm. It sucks. The accountant has a stick up his ass. Janitorial services are still haunting me with questions and quotes. The estimator is crying about checks and bid forms that need to be filled out. I have a pile of invoices from Friday since the receptionist didn't deem it necessary to get the mail until 4:45pm. And I don't feel like doing one bit of work. Instead, I'm updating my LJ and checking my e-mail since I don't know when I'll have my computer back. Dammit.

( i'm such a whiner )

Why can't I get the days off work without the family entanglements?

Jason jokes about moving to Montana and living on a ranch away from people. It doesn't sound like such a bad idea right now.