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Okay, I've been questioned by a number of you as to why I was recently given the old heave ho from that seventh level of Hell I referred to as my job. I've answered everybody who's asked, but I'm growing a bit weary of typing out the same response over and over again. Therefore, I've decided to write out the whole thing here. And if anyone asks me in the future, they will be given a link to this entry.

Yes, I'm incredibly lazy. ;)

I'll start at the basic beginning of this mess. )
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Why is it that almost every time I've travelled to NYC to see Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds in concert, I lost my job?

More later.
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She says "What makes it more quicker?" and I grind my teeth silently at my desk.

However, I just had a lovely little mind movie of me as the Samuel Jackson character from Pulp Fiction.



May. 5th, 2003 11:33 am
thejunipertree: (Default)
It's really amusing when they let the monkeys out to play. ;)
ook ook! )

I've stayed home from work today, as the second head I was growing under my arm a few months back has decided to make its return. Only this time, I can't get my stupid bra on because of it. Doctor's appointment has been made for 1:30pm and I'm worried they're going to stick me with sharp things. I'm really not looking forward to this. :/

I'm also not looking forward to going into work tomorrow. I know my boss wants to have the "Tara, you're a bad employee" talk have a meeting with me and I know what it concerns. One of the other employees already had hers and she filled me in.

Apparently, we talk too much. Which I really don't see as I barely open my mouth at all these days. And it's apparently effecting my boss's work (we sit in a little tiny hallway of sorts) and it's causing me to not finish my work (which I am caught up on just about everything, so I don't see how this is possible).

I don't know. I like my boss, she's great. But, she can be incredibly moody. And I think we've caught her in another one of her bad moods. And they always suck.

I worry on a nigh constant basis about losing my job, financial circumstances in my household being what they are. I know I can easily call the recruiter who got me this job in the first place, he could line up a bunch of interviews. But, I don't want to have to go through that. Not to mention the time inbetween the being employed-not being employed-being employed again.

And I've been GOOD at work, goddamnit. I don't mess around on the internet anymore, unless I'm on my break (and that's allowed). I don't email with people very much, except for my mother when her office phone wasn't working and she needed me to make a bank transfer. And I get my fucking work done.

Yes I've used up most, if not all, of my sick days already. But, I can't help that. Especially when the building has such poor ventilation that I catch every single little bug that people INSIST on coming into work with. Thanks, fuckers.

I hate feeling nervous like this.
I think I'm going to go curl up with the weird pillow that Blue Moon Baby gave to me on Saturday until my appointment.


Apr. 9th, 2003 12:52 pm
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Hellfire and damnation, I say!

I am at work, feeling stupendously and amazingly like ASS. My fever comes and goes, I've had to pull all my hair up (and it is quite a lot) because it was driving me crazy every time I got hit with the feverishness. Top all of this off with the regular collateral girl is out sick today, so the rest of us have to do her job. Something which I hate doing, especially as no one does MY job for ME when I'm out sick.


I check and re-checked the television listings for tonight and tomorrow. Stellastarr* will be on the show that also has Shannen Doherty as a guest (eep). So, that looks to be tomorrow. Thursday night/ Friday morning at 1:35 am.

Yes, I doubt myself at every turn. Which is why I checked the listing.

I couldn't sleep for shit last night. Tossing and turning and sticking my head under the pillow. This is two nights in a row now. And I'm definitely feeling it, at the moment. My head feels like it's the size of a chinese grapefruit. And in case you've never seen one before, those motherfuckers are BIGGER then my own head.

Weird dreams. Uneasy dreams.

Carrie and her brother were in one of them, walking with me through some nasty warehouse place, looking for a friend of theirs who we never found.
Another dream found by down by the ocean in Fraserburgh, alone and in the middle of the night, watching something rise out of the water. Something that made me want to run.
Yet another dream had Baron Samedi sliding an arm around my shoulder and turning me away from something he didn't want me to see.
And still another was of me giving my mother's eulogy. That's the one that left me the most scared. Especially since I saw a cardinal this morning.

I don't like omens. Not one bit.
And this had better just be dreamwalking and birdwatching.
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Feeling kind of mopey. I was reminded this evening of a long distant friend in Manhatten. And it makes me sad that we haven't spoken in such a time. I should probably try to call him, but the only time I can is when he's at work and I don't wish to get him in trouble. He's not a bling bling rockstar who can quit his day job.

Well, not yet at any rate.

It also puts my nose out of joint that I can only find one of his band's songs online. grr.

Today was probably one of the worst days I've had at work. I went through some crazy Illuminati ninja sekrit bullshit trying to get through to one of our investors' offices which two of my packages had been mistakenly sent to. Hopped up Allah on a pogo stick. I was on the phone for three plus hours trying to get this sorted and it's still not. I don't want to go through this tomorrow. I truly don't.

Damnit. I want the rest of my bottle of orange/tangerine/lime juice. But, it's upstairs in the Engineer's apartment.

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Please don't attempt to relate to me. It's just not going to work. Especially if we are from different planets, which we invariably are.

her: Oh wow! Where did you get your boots?
me: Fetishes Boutique. *grin*
her: Is that on South Street?
me: *inwardly cringing* No. It's not.
her: I've never heard of it before. What is it?
me: It's a SEX SHOP. They sell vibrators and whips and boots that are meant to be polished with someone's tongue.
her: Oh, that's cool. You know, I might dress like a dork for work. But, my boyfriend's in a band.
(yes, those are her exact words.)

Your boyfriend's in a band and...what?

Your boyfriend's in a band and he shares you with the roadies?
Your boyfriend's in a band and you wear a chainmail bra?
Your boyfriend's in a band and the band calls you "Three Input Woman"?

I want to clue people in on something. And it's a big something.
Just because you are either (a.) in a band or (b.) screwing someone in a band does not automatically grant you status of HIPSTER COOL DADDY-O.

To be quite frank, most of the guys I know who are in bands are fucking dorks. And their girlfriends? Well. They're fucking dorks, too.

(didja geddit? didja? they're fucking dorks! hahahaha! I slay me.)

This co-worker is a nice girl. She really is. I don't mind her breathing the same air as me, which is a rarity. But, for the love of hairspray and pyrotechnics...DON'T attempt to relate to me using your boyfriend's Poison cover band.

My name is Tara.
And I'm an elitist snob.

I'm a goth, after all. ;P
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Overheard just now: "God is so good, don't you just love Him? The high you get off Him. Ain't nothing like it."

I'm going to break my boot off in someone's ass today. I just know it. 9:43 in the morning and she's starting with her shit already. I can't deal with this. Not today.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not anti-religion. Anyone who knows me well, knows that I have a great deal of respect for religion and that I am a fairly religious person. I just have different opinions about what's right for /me./ Hence, all of my stories of Baron and the other lwa. Religion is one of my favourite things to discuss and debate and to pour over.

However, the WORKPLACE is not the place to fucking prostelitize (spelling?). I have no desire to hear some skewed version of the Bible while I'm trying to get my day's work done. This isn't a place to witness. This isn't the time to fucking evangelise.

She's fucking singing again.

*stomp stomp stomp*

I don't want to start trouble in this department. I don't want to be the person who complains about feeling uncomfortable or offended. I'm not the type of person who finds offense in the smallest mention of a mainstream religion like Christianity. But, I can't deal with this for much longer. I can't.

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The idea of becoming a crime lord with the Wee Ninja becomes more and more appealing with every passing day. Well. That and leaping across the room and burying my pen in the flesh of her neck.

I may even let out an inhuman shriek when I do this, the likes of which no one in this office has ever heard.

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To quell my overwelming sense of disappointment last night, I went to the record store. Despite there not being any new Nick Cave cds waiting there for me.

Instead, I bought the newest Lamb cd which previously I had only found as an import and thusly, a metric fucktonne of money. The one I picked up is a limited edition, with a second disc that has a bunch of remixes and live stuff on it. And for CHEAPER then the other one, despite the fact that it has two cds and is limited edition.

I also bought a Nick Cave cd that I didn't previously own (yeah, believe it or not there's a couple of them out there). From Her To Eternity. Whee! The Engineer kept teasing me about how I was just determined to buy ANY Bad Seeds music at that point.

He got the apartment in my building, by the way. #13. Fucker. Signs the lease tonight and moves in on Saturday. Anybody want to help lug boxes? I'll buy beer. ;)

I'm sitting on pins this morning because there was a notice on our door yesterday when I got home from work that today, at eleven a.m. there was going to be the five year building inspection on the apartments. And that they'd need access to all the apartments. What if they tell me I can't have my little closet bedroom anymore? Or that we have too many cats? Or...or...or...

I keep thinking of frightening options. My mother hollered at me last night about it, saying that we'll worry about those things only if they happen. *sigh* I just don't have that sort of personality.


Oh, the Krispies started with their shit again this morning and I got riled up. This time, it was all about people who read tarot cards and such like. And how it's in the Bible that you shouldn't do this (it's not, especially as how TAROT CARDS DIDN'T EXIST BACK THEN). Fucking idiots. I am wisely keeping my mouth shut as I really do NOT need a confrontation at work.Especially a confrontation that revolves around religion.

Every time they start yapping, I turn my stereo up louder. I think I may bring in headphones tomorrow.


Jan. 28th, 2003 12:56 pm
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Okay, I know I've been a posting fool today. But, I'm feeling more verbose than usual.

Currently, I am digging my nails into my desk to keep from shouting. Those two wackos who sit behind me, I don't know for how much longer I'm going to be able to deal with this. The sound of their voices grates on my nerves to the point where I grit my teeth.

Fucking mealy mouthed idiots, I tell you. I hate the sound of a person's voice when they don't enunciate their goddamn words. Don't talk like you've got God's dick in your mouth, your foolish pantywaist.

They're just STUPID, on top of all of this.
Like the "nice" conversation that went on earlier. I could have put my head down on my desk and cried at the banality of it all.

She's just such a nice little girl.
Oh, isn't that nice!
She said her teacher always tells her how nice she looks.
That sounds like a nice teacher.
And so she asked if she could buy her teacher a nice donut.
That's so nice of her!
And I told her that it would be really nice if she bought a whole dozen.
I think that's a nice thing to do.


And the one is a big effing liar. I've caught her in three already. Don't sit there and tell me that you never speak to your ex-husband and whenever he calls you hang up the phone, then turn around and say that you called him the other day just to hear his voice. And how you're mad that he's up in the Pocanos with someone who isn't you.


Just shutupshutupshutupshutupshutupSHUTUP

I don't care about your pastor. Or your church. I don't care about your nieces and nephews that you have to take care of because your sister is a drug addict. I don't care that your husband left you and now sleeps in a car. I don't care that your father's chicken salad gave you the trots last night.

Fucking irritating. I wish my desk was completely secluded. Like, a little wall all the way around it. Maybe even a drawbridge and a moat. With a moat monster to keep away solicitors.

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In a conversation between the Jeebus Crispies, I have counted the word "nice" 15 times.

In less then five minutes.


This may be a monkey in my pants kind of day, if this keeps up.
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Fine, you want to sit there mindlessly popping your gum like a cow chewing its cud, you freakish-Jebus-loving-minister-humper?


I'm putting Ministry into my CD player.

Oh, and you just wait until later when I tell you about the monkeys in my pants.

grr. I fucking HATE the sound of gum popping.
Especially when someone has politely already been asked to please knock it off.

EFF J00!

Jan. 24th, 2003 02:37 pm
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I have been turning over and examing very carefully a sentence that was said to me yesterday by one of my wacky Jesus Crispie co-workers.

I put God before everything else in my life. Everything.

Everything? Like, effing seriously?`

I mean, say a friend of yours has been in a bad car wreck. No wait. Say you FATHER was in a bad wreck and he's about to die in the hospital. And this is your chance to say goodbye. But, you have to go to church? What do you do?

Do you say "Sorry, Dad. I know you're about ready to croak and all, but me and Jeebus got's to get our hang on?"

I don't effing understand this, I really don't.

Eff that shit, yo.

Oh, and make me stop saying "effing". It's starting to get on my nerves.
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Holy Mary, Mother of mice above. We got a new girl in my department today who seems to be of the fervently religious sort. I've been here for fifteen minutes and I've only heard her talk about God, church, her pastor, and ministering to people.

I'm doomed, I tell you.

Maybe I should make the Baron's altar a bit more visible.

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lmost lost my labret stud in the car this morning as I was taking it out for work (yeah, that's right. I'm a corporate whore sellout). Actually, I DID lose it. The head of the stud, which is a custom made opal job, spun out of my fingers and flipped under the seat. I freaked out. One, because it's my goddamn labret and I'm very attached to it. Two, because I have no idea where my old labret stud is. And three, that little fucker cost me a boatload of money.

Luckily, I found it. After worming my arm completely under the seat with my ass sticking out of the open car door. Who knows what the people in the window office thought I was doing. They all think I'm crazy anyway.

In other news, I am once again defying the recommendation that this work place doesn't "encourage" visible tattoos. I'm wearing one of my favourite shirts, which had 3/4 sleeves. These show my left arm tattoos off quite nicely. It's also got a scoop neckline, which shows bits of all three of my chest tattoos.

Take that, fuckers. Put it in the rule book and I'll follow the code. Until then, I'm going to push it as far as I can. Gar! PUNK RAWK. *snorts*

There's a new Virgin of Guadelupe candle burning on my desk, as I exhausted the old one (and my Lady of Candelaria one, Wee Ninja!). I've also replaced the chocolate the chocolate on the Baron's mini-altar. This piece is wrapped in paper to look like the ace of spades. I find it fitting. I should also probably replace the cigarette that's on the altar, too. But, I'm not sure how many cigarettes I brought with me to work today. One of these days, I'll take photos of this little setup.
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n blatant disregard of my office dress code, today I am wearing a (very) scoop neck black velvet top. All three tattoos visible on my chest.


too much sugar...bwee!

free money

Dec. 31st, 2002 12:21 pm
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I got a bonus! I got a bonus! *dances*

Of course, it doesn't hold a candle to the Engineer's great big manly he-cock of a bonus check that he got last week. But, it's still a bonus check. And I wasn't expecting one.

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There is some dopey girl in this office who needs to learn to not throw fucking attitude at me like she's some goddess who's shit don't stink.

Everytime I come into contact with her, she absolutely exudes an air of dislike. And I've never said two words to her. She's not in my department, so I've barely even made any kind of contact with her. But, yet...every single time I have to walk past her desk, she stares. And if we pass each other in the hall and I smile, she does nothing and gives no acknowledgement.

Just now, I went to get something that I was printing up. The printer was out of paper, so I walked ten steps away to get a package of letter size. Came back, filled the printer. During my filling of the printer, she walked up with another package of paper in her hands. Apparently, she'd walked all the way across the office to get it. Not realising that there was a box of the damn stuff not ten feet from her desk. She didn't say anything to me whatsoever, not even an indication that she was standing behind me with a package of paper. Nothing. Zip. Nada.

She just waited until I was finished and got what I needed from the printer, then huffily put her package under the printer where the extra stuff goes.

Then, as I went back to my desk, I get hard looks from her.

Bitch doesn't know who she's messing with.

If someone has a legitimate problem with me, that's fine. If you've got a REASON to throw attitude in my direction, have a ball. But, if you just have a problem because you don't like how I look (which is a HELL OF A LOT better than your lame shit), or think I'm "weird"...well. You can pack that straight up your fucking ass with a ten pound bag of sand.

Fucking retards.
She wears one of those Gap scarves around her neck all the fucking time, too.
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Nothing good really tunes in on this radio. Though, currently it's AC/DC "Shook Me All Night".

I'm not quite how to feel about this. And I can't stop smirking. Maybe it's because this band reminds me of Ghoulie so much.


This makes me want to jump on my desk and start fucking shit up.


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