![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Hey, remember me?
Oct. 15th, 2004 07:04 amYeah, I'm the girl who used to write in her journal every sodding day. Jesus Christ on an aeroplane bound for Brazil, I've had a bad week.
Firstly, Ray got moved to another shop owned by the same people that own the shop I work in, so Marci got promoted to management. That, of course, left a gap where she used to be, so I moved up to take her place, Cidni took my place, and now there's a new little fucker called Matt. Not Matt Stewart the cleaning service man, but Matt Johnson. We've got two Matts when we used to have two Rays. Whilst all this was going on, Cidni and I covered the vacant shifts and trained Matt. Lots of extra pay, but little Sonja time.
I learnt a couple lessons this past week and a half-ish. The man at the shop nextdoor told everyone that he fucked me (not bloody true), so I ran a key over the driver's door of his car. I learnt that CCTV is not my friend, and that I need to settle matters like an adult by punching his fucking face in.
Speaking of punching fucking faces in, I got into a bit of an altercation and cracked two ribs. Yay for me.
Sorry I haven't phoned you Veevs. I mean to, and then I forget, and then I remember, and then I forget. The whole time I was in America, I never once phoned Linzie or Bob, though Nisi did ring me once. I lie. I rang Bob once, but got his fucking voice mail.
And then! I was out and about, and there was a show (some band I don't recall the name of), and there was a huge pit, and someone decided he would dump his beer on me. That was great. My ribs hurt every time I laugh, so please don't say anything funny.
Firstly, Ray got moved to another shop owned by the same people that own the shop I work in, so Marci got promoted to management. That, of course, left a gap where she used to be, so I moved up to take her place, Cidni took my place, and now there's a new little fucker called Matt. Not Matt Stewart the cleaning service man, but Matt Johnson. We've got two Matts when we used to have two Rays. Whilst all this was going on, Cidni and I covered the vacant shifts and trained Matt. Lots of extra pay, but little Sonja time.
I learnt a couple lessons this past week and a half-ish. The man at the shop nextdoor told everyone that he fucked me (not bloody true), so I ran a key over the driver's door of his car. I learnt that CCTV is not my friend, and that I need to settle matters like an adult by punching his fucking face in.
Speaking of punching fucking faces in, I got into a bit of an altercation and cracked two ribs. Yay for me.
Sorry I haven't phoned you Veevs. I mean to, and then I forget, and then I remember, and then I forget. The whole time I was in America, I never once phoned Linzie or Bob, though Nisi did ring me once. I lie. I rang Bob once, but got his fucking voice mail.
And then! I was out and about, and there was a show (some band I don't recall the name of), and there was a huge pit, and someone decided he would dump his beer on me. That was great. My ribs hurt every time I laugh, so please don't say anything funny.
