If It Weren't For My Horse
Internet at Kensington House is broken, which is quite typical, as I need to register for classes in 13 minutes. CAPA thoughtfully provided me with a free voucher for one hour of internet at the internet cafe down the block to compensate, which should be plenty, as I've thoroughly researched the classes I need to take. I've pretty much given up hope of graduating before Spring 2008, which is semi-depressing and will be yet another $15,000 or so down the ever-growing maw of my gaping debt monster. But this does afford me the opportunity to take a class or two that I really want, instead of just classes I need. Ah, well. Que sera, sera, etc.
Last night was Tory's birthday party and my plan not to get wasted got blown out the window. Which was unfortunate as I had to get up and go to work this morning when what I really wanted to do was die. I hadn't had that much to drink, in the grand scheme of things, and I stuck to beer and wine. In retrospect, sticking to beer and wine might have been what did me in, as I am far more familiar with my liquor limits. But the point is, I had the spins pretty bad and I decided that throwing up would solve that little issue, but I ended up cramming basically all of my fingers all the way down to my lungs in my efforts, and I was thanked with the violent bruising of the delicate membranes at the back of my throat, which has hurt like hell all day. I don't know how bulimics do it.
Warning: the preceding story was graphic and disgusting.
Also, Kendra bit me on the throat last night and bruised my ladylike neck, which also hurt. Add in the hangover, and it all makes for a very unproductive day at work.
Oh, and now both of my jobs have got me answering the phones, which is not for me. Not so much. And there's no easy way to communicate that I'm just an intern and can't help you if you call, so today some lady called and started going on and on about how we told a violent offender that there was no need for a perpetrator-treatment program in his area and that's why he couldn't get help. Which doesn't sound like us, but the point was that I was not the person she should be yelling at about it. And then I kept trying to tell her to hold and she kept talking over me. That being said, I really relish the fact that in both of my jobs I A) never have to call someone at home, and B) never have to worry about identifying myself. Which is a dramatic improvement over my last job.
I have to go register for classes now. Hopefully that all works out.
PS I have terrible heartburn. I blame Tim Pawlenty.
Last night was Tory's birthday party and my plan not to get wasted got blown out the window. Which was unfortunate as I had to get up and go to work this morning when what I really wanted to do was die. I hadn't had that much to drink, in the grand scheme of things, and I stuck to beer and wine. In retrospect, sticking to beer and wine might have been what did me in, as I am far more familiar with my liquor limits. But the point is, I had the spins pretty bad and I decided that throwing up would solve that little issue, but I ended up cramming basically all of my fingers all the way down to my lungs in my efforts, and I was thanked with the violent bruising of the delicate membranes at the back of my throat, which has hurt like hell all day. I don't know how bulimics do it.
Warning: the preceding story was graphic and disgusting.
Also, Kendra bit me on the throat last night and bruised my ladylike neck, which also hurt. Add in the hangover, and it all makes for a very unproductive day at work.
Oh, and now both of my jobs have got me answering the phones, which is not for me. Not so much. And there's no easy way to communicate that I'm just an intern and can't help you if you call, so today some lady called and started going on and on about how we told a violent offender that there was no need for a perpetrator-treatment program in his area and that's why he couldn't get help. Which doesn't sound like us, but the point was that I was not the person she should be yelling at about it. And then I kept trying to tell her to hold and she kept talking over me. That being said, I really relish the fact that in both of my jobs I A) never have to call someone at home, and B) never have to worry about identifying myself. Which is a dramatic improvement over my last job.
I have to go register for classes now. Hopefully that all works out.
PS I have terrible heartburn. I blame Tim Pawlenty.
spit at you by Nil at 1:18 PM
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