The Day of Rest

For the rest of you maybe. Me, I'm at work. and it was such a beautiful day. worse part is...well, I actually dont know how bad it is, but theres no windows where I work. Would I be more depressed about being stuck at work if I could actually see how beautiful the day was outside? Or would I be happier not seeing the day, and subscribe to the "out of sight out of mind" school of thought?
I do know this: My new co-worker sucks. Not because she actually sucks, but because she works part time iun the military, and has "Drill wekends" which means someone has to fill in for her ont hsoe days. Step in your faithful Suuperfudge to fill in the hole. Normally, this wouldnt be so bad, But the dude I have to work with is an ass. He is wound entirley too tight for a job where most of our time is spent watching movies duringt he weekend. My Job is not unlike Homer simpson and George Jetson... Its that easy. Yet, this dude cant handle the minute stress involved. sitting withthe guy for eight hours a day is stupid. normally I dont have to work with the dude, but like I said, someone has to work if she doesnt. You can catch her blog here:
http://crazygirlcity.blogspot.com/ she's pretty cool, and keeps it pretty current.

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It didnt end

OK, so the billboards for the re-release of "The Omen" are all 6-6-06, with upside down crosses for the dashes. There were all kinds of conversations about the end of the world and armageddon, ragnarok, or whatever. I decided it was a good day to get on a plane. I flew out of LAX from gate A13. I sat in row 13. I sat next to a little girl with a pillow shaped like a black cat. The cab I got in was yellow cab number 0666. When I got out of the car, a black cat crossed my path. The world is still here. Sadly, I was hoping for a little of the armageddon. I wouldnt have had to come to work today. but alas, we're all here still, and I'm working mad hours. I hate my boss, so i suppose I'm part of a tradition of the American Work force who cant stand their supervisors.
In other news...I've got a rad girlfriend with red hair which only propegates my belief that my life seems to follow that of Charlie Brown more and more. Love you Ramona Quimby, age 8.

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