I close tomorrow, then there’s vacation from Wednesday to Sunday.

Vacations stress me…I feel anxious already, like maybe it won’t even be worth it. -_-”

Idk. At least I’m feeling well again, so there’s that.
Now I just have to gather some addresses, and go to sleep so I can get up early-early and get my hair cut (closing will be so fun…).

See you next Sunday (or maybe Monday).



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My parents decided to get the driveway sealed a few days ago, and the neighbors next door decided to do it too that same day…and the next day, two houses across the street and then the one on the other side of us decided to do it too…

Bloody annoying to be the last one home at night and have to park all the way down around the corner and walk to the house. I’ll murder someone if it rains tomorrow and I have to walk in a downpour to the house at 3am.

…I see now why one of my employees saved an Anger pin for me when Inside Out came out.

Anyway. Sleep, of course. But not before I leave you with today’s dumb conversation.

Me: You’re ridiculous.
Michael: I take that as a compliment.
Me: Really? Because it isn’t one.
Michael: You don’t know me. I’d take that as a compliment any day.
Me: Because you can’t get real ones?
Michael: You know, you’re starting to be my least favourite Nazi.
Me: Least favourite? Ouch. I’d like to point out that I haven’t killed you.
Michael: Yeah, well, if you were a good Nazi, you would have already.
Me: I never claimed to be good at what I do.
Paris: I’m using that idea to start a children’s franchise.
Me: I’m sorry–what?
Paris: They’re coming out with “The Good Dinosaur”. Why can’t I do one called “The Good Nazi”?
Me: Because then you have to define what you mean by “good”.
Paris: Hmm…
Me: …will there be promotional pins? I’ll need to take off work to avoid every employee trying to give me one.
Paris: *laughs*

last 10


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Here, I post another book-type list that I got from bluchickenninja.

…and I feel good about this one, too, because it is a list of the last 10 books that “came into my possession”. Or, since I loathe people giving me books…it becomes the last 10 books that I bought. And I was having trouble recalling them, so ultimately that is a good thing, as it means I’ve curbed my need to constantly buy books.
(For now.)

Spies, by Marcel Beyer
It was a (nearly) cheap-as-free book that I picked up to satisfy my Wolf, because he got very taken with learning about the Spanish Civil War, and he wanted to find a story connected to that…so we did. I read a few pages before getting it, and was baffled because there is a huge stylistic difference between the Prologue and the first chapter…we wanted to see what was up with that, and if it had anything to do with the bookstore basically paying us to take this off their hands.
I don’t expect to get to get to this one before fall, just because of the ponderousness of GoT.

Trigger Warning, by Neil Gaiman
I love Gaiman’s writing. Even the books of his that I haven’t liked as much are well above the level of satisfaction I get from many other authors. I will probably get to this one in late summer…and see if there’s any merit to the title, which I recall reviewers who hadn’t even read it getting huffy over because they see it as belittling their mental disorders. I can’t speak to that until I read it, but if it does turn out to be belittling to the mentally afflicted, that will be disappointing, and I will probably respect Gaiman less…but we’ll see when we get there.

The Road Back, by Erich Maria Remarque
I am reading this now. I’ll have a more full opinion once I’ve actually finished it, but so far it is not bad. It isn’t as upsetting as the book it follows, for sure.

Dreams in The Witch House, by H.P. Lovecraft
This book is all of Lovecraft’s trippy dream-stories and slightly lesser weird tales. The dream stories annoyed me until I realized I wasn’t reading them in the proper frame of mind–you know, as though they are dreams that someone is telling me about–but I am glad to have read them.

All Quiet on The Western Front, by Erich Maria Remarque
Ah, such a sad book. I should only go into bookshops with a chaperone, so that they can stop me from doing anything foolish when I realize that we have read all the promising-looking Lovecraftian anthologies, and my Wolf brightens up and says, “hey, remember that really upsetting thing we read in high school…? Let’s find it!” Then I could probably have also been prevented from acquiring items #1 and #3.

The Children of Old Leech, assorted authors
I mistakenly thought this was a collection of Laird Barron’s work, but really it is an anthology to honour his particular style of weird tale…I liked it. I like that authors of weird tales feed off of other authors in the genre…it has little threads of continuity that other writing doesn’t have, and that is great for building on creepy feelings. I love it.

The Beautiful Thing that Awaits Us All, by Laird Barron
Then there is Barron’s actual writing, which is awesome and creepy…and more like to be gory than Lovecraft’s work. I particularly like his adaptions of some of Lovecraft’s themes…creepy mountain men and outlaws, which I think he uses to better effect than Lovecraft did…but that’s just me. And the monsters, naturally, are creepy.

Dr Who Anniversary Collection, various authors
I was excited to read some Doctor Who stories, although I am admittedly a little out of the loop, having not seen any of the older series at all. They were alright though.

The Ocean at The End of The Lane, by Neil Gaiman
This one is not one of my favourites by him, but it is equal parts childhood-fantasy and morbid, upsetting stuff, and I do like both of those things in my books. I think that the biggest thing I was not a fan of was the way it ended…it was not a satisfying resolution. Or any kind of resolution, really.

Maddaddam, by Margaret Atwood
This was a huge disappointment. The first book in this series, Oryx and Crake, was amazing. It had everything it needed to be a stand-alone book. And then Atwood made it a trilogy, and introduced children. And if there is one thing I have learned about books, it’s that when a child is introduced, the book is essentially over. It’s never any good. Never. Because of the same dilemma that all literature, and much of life itself holds–that the child must destroy its parents in order to live. Their stories pale in comparison to the story of the child, and so we must go back to YA books, where the child will find out its talents and a place in the world…and one forgets about the dull and increasingly ridiculous lives of the parents.
*shrug* I just really wish she hadn’t made this a trilogy. But if you love sci-fi, I definitely recommend the first book. Just try very hard to stop yourself after that.


foolish things


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I have done one of those foolish things again. Those kinds of foolish things where, when I did them, I was not fully aware of what it was that I did.

My Wolf is thinks we should not be bothered, but he is being sympathetic. I can tell because of all the grooming. That me is not nearly so fastidious. “Does it matter?” he asks.
-It matters if someone notices.
-How likely are they to notice?
-I don’t know. Not very?
-Then it does not matter.
-But what if they do?
-Then you will simply have to own it and act like you knew what you did.
-Doesn’t that…ah…make me seem kind of awful?
-That’s where we win. We already know we are awful. We’ve done plenty of awful things. This one isn’t so bad. And if anyone thinks so–well, they would be ashamed to know us better, wouldn’t they?
-Thanks. You always know how to make me feel better about ourself. *so much sarcasm*

Oh well. On the upside, my mental landscape does not have snow this time. Just long grass. The kind with those saw blade edges that hurt when you walk through with bare legs…

I suppose I should be more concerned with this internal dialogue than with what the foolish thing was that we did. Ah well. *shrug*

Different topic, I suppose?

After making it through three GoT books, the last of which was 1000+ pages, this book of barely 300+ pages that I’m on now is winding down far too quickly.

It’s not the most awesome thing I ever read, but it’s leaps and bounds away from being as bad or incomprehensible as the reviewers made it out to be. I’m offended on behalf of the author, that these people almost dissuaded me from reading it.

Plus…they didn’t prepare me adequately for the constant stream of jokes about gingers. :P
No doubt I’ll have more to say about that once I’ve finished it. Sometime this weekend, probably.

And now I think I shall try and sleep, so that tomorrow I might go get my hair cut and then go to our employee screening of Ant-Man, and then see Toni. She was sad because she missed “national doughnut day”, so I am taking her doughnuts. Nice ones, even.

Because in this country it doesn’t matter what day of the year it is: we can enjoy doughnuts whenever we like. (No doubt my office mates would be proud of me, for expressing this sentiment.)

Now. Sleep.



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In another example of the universe trolling me, I seem to always end up reading a story or a book where there is a character with the stomach flu–or even better, dysentery–when I am also having digestive problems.

What a great way to feel closer to the characters. *chokes on sarcasm*

Funny, that this is one of the reasons I got to being social with Toni. Because it makes me feel like I’m being friendly if I sit quietly by while someone sits over a trashcan and we don’t talk because they think they will vomit…so we just sat quietly. And sometimes when we would hang out, I’d bring her packets of Pepto-Bismol. Because that’s how you become someone’s friend.

…ugh. I’m hopeless.

goofing off



Hm. One of my employees told me that after our GM, I’m the manager who people goof off around the least.

I do not know how to interpret this data.

I don’t even have a good conversation to share, although we had a lot of fun ones today (not one with Nazis this time, because although it is a rule that we have to have one of those every time I set foot in the theatre, today’s was lame…), but the one I was thinking of adding here was…really dark. And I feel like maybe it crosses some kind of line.

…which is probably a small contributing factor in why people don’t goof off around me as much. :|

Anyway. I’ve got an appointment for my cat tomorrow AM, so I will probably try and sleep now so I can get up on time for that.

It’s going to take an incredible amount of willpower to NOT open the book I want to start…since I FINALLY finished A Storm of Swords and can now take a pause from Westeros and read something where, after ten pages, I can already not keep the characters straight and will have to start at page one again tomorrow night.


a pinch of dumb


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Here is a thing: I haven’t read my fiancé’s blog since August 2013. I saved it to my favourites, and checked back every day for a while. And then every week. Every month…

No new entries. Ever? Okay…

It seemed unusual, given that we met over blog posting, but I never asked him why he stopped keeping his blog…figured he was just more interested in a music blog, since he has one of those as well, which I was seeing updates for…

But he posted a link on FB the other day, connecting to the blog…and there are now two years’ worth of posts that I need to find time to read. Because I’ve never seen them before. Because SOMEHOW when I saved the link to my favourites, it wasn’t on the home page…it was on a specific post, and I never realized it because I am a stupid creature. x_x

One less mystery in my life, I suppose.

There is also this: things that come in tubes. Like toothpaste. Or Neosporin. Or…idk. Other stuff in tubes.

And my sisters and my fiancé are the sort of people who just squeeze these tubes at the middle, so they’re all lumpy and weird and you can’t really tell how much toothpaste is in it…

Barbarians! Have they not read the entire packaging, which says that for best results, one should flatten the tube from the bottom up? Don’t they want the best results?! D:


So, now I’m guilty of picking up everyone’s toothpastes and “fixing” them so that I don’t lose my mind. -_-”

And then there is this, too:

Blair: So, Jew’s impatient ass–
Me: –What? Just stop. What?
Blair: Oh my gosh, no! *laughing* That’s not even what I meant to say!
Me: Then please, let’s start from the beginning, and this time you will tell me the name of an actual employee who I actually want to hear about.
Blair: *laughing too hard*
Me: -____-”
Blair: Joe. I meant Joe’s impatient ass needs some change for his drawer.
Me: You know what? Working in this office has eliminated any doubts I may have had about Freudian slips being real.
Blair: Sorry!

sleep things


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I was reading this article the other day, about sleep paralysis… it’s interesting stuff. The idea that our brains are wired to show us terrifying things when we are transitioning between sleep and wakefulness.

Why would we do that to ourselves?
No clue. That’s a question for scientists to answer, I suppose.

Still. Interesting.

I am pretty sure that I’ve experienced it before. Twice that I recall. One time when I was in college, in my semi-underground room (it was above the basement, but the windows were right at the level of the grass in the yard), and I was awake, but I couldn’t move or open my eyes and I thought I heard people talking and it scared me that I couldn’t move to see who could be in my room…

The other time is weird, because I definitely couldn’t move, and I definitely saw a shadow-figure crouching at the end of my bed and watching me…but the bit that makes it weird is that I wasn’t terrified or even surprised to see the shadow-figure. Because it seemed familiar. Very familiar. As in, the shadow was me. My Wolf-me.

Naturally, my Wolf would watch us sleep. And wear a human-shape that resembled me enough that I would recognize ourself.
*rolls eyes*

See, seeing yourself is not terrifying, but it’s hard to put out of your mind. Especially when you come to the reaisation that nobody else talks about that kind of thing happening to them.

Demons? Yes. Murderers? Absolutely. Menacing phantoms? Of course. Their own selves? Um. No.

On a semi-related note though, I have finally found someone who’s shared a dream with me wherein he changed POV between characters and saw himself in his own dream. That’s exciting to hear about, and makes me feel a bit less uneasy about my own dreams wherein I am never me and I am doing stuff like, you know…possessing people and making them do things that they otherwise would not do.


Welp. Now I will go to bed and maybe have some actual dreams instead of just typing about them.

terror is…



Terror is falling asleep whilst driving, and knowing that you are SO CLOSE to home, but powerless to keep your eyes open for more than a minute or so.

And then when you open them after blinking a little too long, you see you are drifting, but even that doesn’t make your heart hammer hard enough to keep you from doing it again…and again…and then when you pull up in front of your house, you think, “maybe I will just sit back for a minute to see if the rain will let up…”

No idea how long I dozed in my car once I was finally parked, but I definitely did the right thing in leaving work early.

I came in the house and put some things away and went upstairs and promptly fell asleep for two hours. Almost missed dinner because mom forgot that unless I’m physically dragged out of bed, I have an automatic setting that reassures people that I am awake, and despite how convincing I am when using this setting…it’s 100% a lie and I will not even remember that you tried to wake me.

Naturally, I am not nearly as sleepy now…but Imma go pluck my laundry from the dryer and try very hard to sleep for a while.




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Today I locked my keys in the car right as it started pouring down rain. So much rain. I’m sick of it.

Wasted 45 minutes waiting for dad to come by with my spare set of keys, and wound up battling through rush hour traffic to get my errands done. With squishy, rain-filled shoes. Needless to say, I was cross. More cross than I was when my car stalled this morning…I got her to start again, but I wanted to hurt the old man behind me because I put my hazard lights on and he starts honking at me and gesturing for me to get out of the way. Except that, oh–I CAN’T.

I have to tell myself that he’s old and sees that I am a younger driver, and that he is probably assuming that I’m not moving because I like to hold up traffic for fun. Never mind the flashing lights.
I suppose I should be grateful that he didn’t just plow into the back of me in his hurry to be wherever he was going, and that I had a moment to switch the car off and on again and get her moving.


This is Erika, by the way.

Erika car

We’re taking her to be looked at on Thursday, and hopefully they’ll figure out why she’s stalling on me.

Now…I’m going to watch the last two episodes of this TV show, and then go to bed so I can get up ungodly early tomorrow and hopefully not have any car mishaps (and actually stay for my whole shift, despite how I will desperately want to go home before noon).

And tomorrow, I will (I hope) finish reading the unwholesomely long book, A Storm of Swords.

Maybe I will even stop wondering about all the foreign visitors to my last post who didn’t even wish me a happy birthday.


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