May 26, 2002
Tori and Me
"When I look down, I miss all the good stuff. When I look up, I just trip over things..."
That is the lyric of my life. Thankyou, Ani, for being so damn cool.
The highlight of this evening was the fact that if I pressed the opposite sides of my extra large t-shirt together (which was more than possible considering it was gargantuan), it said 'Asy' instead of 'Argosy.'
Shows you just how fucking bored I was tonight, huh?
Today started out wonderfully. Coffee with Ian was everything I hoped it would be, except maybe a little too just-friendsy, and I'm not even sure if I wanted it to be more than that. Perhaps I am just curious as to what it would be like, or maybe I just want to be held again.
At any rate, we talked for two straight hours about everything from organized religion to drilling in Anwar to haunted colonial Williamsburg to dream interpretation. What we didn't drink of our mocha lattes grew cold, and I became quite distracted by the way he seemed to absently twirl his cup. Sometimes he seems to smile at me strangely, though beyond that I have no idea how he feels about me.
I am not sure about anything. I am distracted by Chris' idle flirtation, and am more than distracted by his heavy lidded eyes. Ian is everything I say I want. And I think I might want him. Is it because I can't have anyone else? I can't make a thoughtless decision. I don't even know what I want.
I enjoy Ian's friendship immensely.
I just want to rip Chris' clothes off in the middle of the rotunda.
I am listening to Tori Amos. Therapy. I obviously need it.
Today soured when I arrived at work as one of the few people in my regular blue shirt. I claimed Nick had told me it wasn't necessary to wear the XL shirt if it looked ridiculous, which he had. But everybody that came in without our festive memorial wear was forced to change into it. So, eventually, I had to as well.
It didn't help that I was wearing a black bra and you could see through the shirt. It also didn't help that everytime I lifted my arms you could see right into my shirt.
Business was weird. People came in bursts, and then we'd be dead. People were stupid, but that isn't anything new. The servers were bitching, but that, also, isn't anything new.
Brandon treated me like a human being. I suppose that is something to cheer about.
And I have to work tomorrow. They're going to let me out early, but I'm still not happy about it. The fucking management is half-retarded. They never schedule enough people, and then jack-asses like me will pick up the shifts and allow the stupidity to perpetuate itself. I'll get paid time and a half, so I won't complain further.
And they put Jessica on suspension for next weekend, basically because they're always giving her shit and she fights back. So all of next weekend we will be short-handed, because God forbid they schedule someone in her stead. That would make sense, and then it wouldn't be Argosy Casino.
I wish I had just a little bit of power. I'd be chewing fucking Robert's ear off. He does these things to be a big shot, but then it's us that suffers for it. I'm tired of being expected to go above and beyond. The only thing that comes of being hardworking is being taken advantage of.
I complain too much.
I'm sorry.
There is a fucking Wahoo potato chip on my floor. This is the second time I have just found one of these randomly in the vicinity of my computer. And it's my brother. His mouth is huge. He must have horrible aim.
astera at 11:42 p.m.