Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.

muffins make everything good...

Especially the blueberry kind, with a great wodge of cream-cheese filling.

This morning I woke myself up with the thought: "Hey, this would make a great Sentinel story. Why hasn't someone ever written it?" And now I've totally and utterly forgotten what my brilliant idea was. Um. Yeah. hate that.

Okay, I lied. Muffins don't make everything good. They certainly don't sweeten my feelings about the arrogant, braying, condescending jackass I have to work with on our help UI. It would be really cool if I could arrange with Bud White and Ed Exley to come over and dangle W. out the window, like they did that little weasel Lowe. ("If I let you go, they'll be ten more web developers to take your place tomorrow. They just won't come on the bus, that's all.")

::simmering anger::

::deep steadying breaths::

Yeah. That'd be cool.

So, I watched a few vids to relax my sizzling nerves, but they're hopping around like...things that hop. Frogs on a griddle. I don't know. Great vids, though. I wish I could make out more of them; missed some stuff. I guess that's just an inevitable part of viewing vids online--the compression and darkness of clips?

I feel a light storm blowing in. Change in weather. Cold front in the brain: you look at your own writing, and all of a sudden it's utter crap, everything is crap. I re-read most of "Throwing Shapes" last night and hated it. Not with a savage hate, but with a mild, milky "god, how pointless" kind of hate. Stared at my boring, amateurish webpages and hated them, too. Fuck my lame-ass lack of Photoshop skills. I can't figure out how people make those gorgeous, complex pages with all sorts of overlaid images and neat designs.

Jesus, this jackass at work has pissed me off. In the hour and ten minutes this LJ window has been open, you can trace the precise degeneration of my mood. Everything is taking on a dark, ugly color. And, gee, I haven't been to the gym in a week and I've been eating bacon, and I've been drinking almost every day. I wonder whose fault this all *really* is.

I want the day off. Because I am a lazy, moody bitch.
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