monstruation

life is majorly frustrating today. my own thirdworld-ness confounds me to no end.

mad, mad eleanor.

I just had to send back the first decently sized job my outsourcer in europe has sent me in months. my computer's fried and now I can't for the life of me remember a time when technology was last kind to me.

I have a twist or some stupid thing on my neck and i've been dizzy and queasy the whole day. hormones have intoxicated me and I guess I should be grateful I'm having my period after all the feistiness of the last fortnight, right. well shitting shit. fuck looking at it from the bright side.

stupid mr ekos and his ultimate hotness, and his being around so little in the last few episodes. I need his muscley shiny mean mother prescence to make me pant and forget how utterly terrible I am for administrating my own finances.

I hate it that it feels like punishment for running away for the weekend, even though I made sure to rely on not one but two payments, and not one but two computers, the old better safe than... ironic that now neither payment looks like it's ever coming in, and I can't get either computer to work right.

fuck my bank, too, who refuses to take transfers from abroad because I'm just not good enough. fuck bananacorp, where they think I can afford to just wait for a payment since mid february.

fuck bush and stupid donald rumsfield, who apparently owned Roche at they designed teraflu, and according my sir boss, engineered h5n1 in order to become richer.

3 songs for a horrible day
1. wave of mutilation -- the pixies
2. blister in the sun -- violent femmes
3. ashes to ashes -- david bowie