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So, 2004 is coming to a close. And I don't imagine I'll miss it a whole lot, since what small amount of good happiness it had amassed before this September was swiftly and cruelly felled by the UofC. It was, however, the year of changing-obsessions and my first (two) convention(s) and the first full year I've been in college and all that lovely stuff. Oh, and Nanowrimo, which was fun and was probably which held the last three strands of my sanity together through November (December definitely killed it, in that one week I was still at school, as evidenced by the fact that I only successfully readjusted to my normal state of being about three days ago. You can tell that I'm feeling more like myself by my writing style in here, too. I'm throwing in a lot more big adjectives and sounding appropriately cherrily-verbose and such).
But anyway, enough of this reminiscing crap. What I really need to get off my chest is this disturbing development at work. This ever-so-disturbing development involving 40ish men and the movie theatre. And, contrary to what you might be imagining this problem could be at the moment, it involves them calling me ma'am. Yes. Grown men. Calling me ma'am. I really, really don't need old men calling me ma'am when I am doing such a good job of not being afraid of turning twenty in a little more than a week. I love how some people freak out when they turn twenty or twenty-one because they think they're getting old. But I bet, over the past two days, they haven't had four seperate grey-haired men call them ma'am. And one of them ask "Are you married, ma'am?" Yeah. What the heck? I'm sure I could have some kind of lovely crisis over this, but I'd prefer to be amused and slightly miffed that I was the one that had to clean up the inexplicable Inch of Water and Creepy Black Piece of Wig in the ladies' restroom today. I totally don't understand what people do to damage public restrooms so thoroughly. I mean... there are no words for some of the things I've seen in there. (Not much surpasses that weird wig piece though. Really... what the heck would cause that?! And it apparently had nothing to do with the overflowing fourth stall. It flushed backwards!)
I've got so much to do tomorrow, in addition to packing. And I'm nowhere close to being through all the books I got out of the library. I probably won't even get through with Dune before I have to leave, sadly. Just when I'm starting to like the characters... sigh. I need to stop letting my mind wander off to other stuff in the middle though... like this great evil novel-length thing eating at me now, which is heavily influenced by Xenogears and whose main characters are basically from FMA, but it's too far removed from both words now to be fanfiction in any regards... so I have to work on pulling it further away so it doesn't immediately scream Xenogears at people (characters are characters, if people say "Hey, he's a lot like Roy Mustang" (Roy's about the only one that would be totally recognizable anyway) I can deal with it. I'd probably be flattered or something).
I think I'm through with my rambling here for now. Happy New Year, all! I will probably write again after midnight, but for now I think I'm off to wander ff.net in search of some amusing gems, or to perhaps... I don't know. Amuse myself with the internet for a bit. Hehehe.
But anyway, enough of this reminiscing crap. What I really need to get off my chest is this disturbing development at work. This ever-so-disturbing development involving 40ish men and the movie theatre. And, contrary to what you might be imagining this problem could be at the moment, it involves them calling me ma'am. Yes. Grown men. Calling me ma'am. I really, really don't need old men calling me ma'am when I am doing such a good job of not being afraid of turning twenty in a little more than a week. I love how some people freak out when they turn twenty or twenty-one because they think they're getting old. But I bet, over the past two days, they haven't had four seperate grey-haired men call them ma'am. And one of them ask "Are you married, ma'am?" Yeah. What the heck? I'm sure I could have some kind of lovely crisis over this, but I'd prefer to be amused and slightly miffed that I was the one that had to clean up the inexplicable Inch of Water and Creepy Black Piece of Wig in the ladies' restroom today. I totally don't understand what people do to damage public restrooms so thoroughly. I mean... there are no words for some of the things I've seen in there. (Not much surpasses that weird wig piece though. Really... what the heck would cause that?! And it apparently had nothing to do with the overflowing fourth stall. It flushed backwards!)
I've got so much to do tomorrow, in addition to packing. And I'm nowhere close to being through all the books I got out of the library. I probably won't even get through with Dune before I have to leave, sadly. Just when I'm starting to like the characters... sigh. I need to stop letting my mind wander off to other stuff in the middle though... like this great evil novel-length thing eating at me now, which is heavily influenced by Xenogears and whose main characters are basically from FMA, but it's too far removed from both words now to be fanfiction in any regards... so I have to work on pulling it further away so it doesn't immediately scream Xenogears at people (characters are characters, if people say "Hey, he's a lot like Roy Mustang" (Roy's about the only one that would be totally recognizable anyway) I can deal with it. I'd probably be flattered or something).
I think I'm through with my rambling here for now. Happy New Year, all! I will probably write again after midnight, but for now I think I'm off to wander ff.net in search of some amusing gems, or to perhaps... I don't know. Amuse myself with the internet for a bit. Hehehe.
