Archive for bitchin' a ride
October 18, 2007 at 4:49 am | Filed under bitchin' a ride, camwhorage
Phony Issues
Valid during many months: With this influence, you have to show other people that you are someone to be reckoned with. Or you may have to defend yourself against an attack from someone, whether or not you have provoked it. This influence is most likely to produce conflicts, anger and resentment. The best thing to do, if a conflict situation arises, is to have it out immediately. If you do not find a satisfactory outlet for your energies at this time, you will be easily angered, resentful, irritable and quick to take offense. If you must blow up at somebody, make sure that you understand the real source of the conflict, so that it can be aired. All too often, conflicts occur over phony issues that are only symbols of a much more profound problem.
Quand je suis fâché, je me sens comme je t’aime moins.
Je souhaite.
September 12, 2007 at 5:04 am | Filed under bitchin' a ride, camwhorage
BitchFace, grrawr!
I’m guessing it’s almost that time of the month that’s bringing about all these homicidal thoughts. This is not good, as I’m prone to think and act recklessly when annoyed and tend to be standoffish towards people whom I would otherwise adore, had my hormones not been acting all loony. I’m also irrationally paranoid and extra emotional during this time, which leads to resentment and bitterness over not being coddled and babied.
And then there are days where I’d rather be left alone to sulk.
Hey, at least this is just me PMS-ing. It’s a comforting thought that I’m not normally this way and that I’ll be back to my regular self in…in…in a couple of weeks. I’m bracing myself for the impending CARBS! CARBS! GIMME CARBS! phase that I go through, too. Oh boy.
o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o
Work LOL:
Caller: Umm, hi. I just made an itinerary and I accidentally cancelled it.
Helga: …Okay. And what do you want me to do?
Caller: Get it back?
Helga: …It’s been cancelled. I can’t uncancel it?
Seriously, we’re not God here.
o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o
I screwed up yesterday while testing password protected posts: I edited my templates-functions-post.php file to come up with a customized message which messed up several files which in turn barred me from logging in to my Wordpress dashboard. Suffice to say, that caused me an unfitful sleep. You laugh, but I refuse to get pwnt by some code.
Anyway, I’ve learned my lesson: password-protecting entries is gaynage.
o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o
FIVE AM! Time to go home! To a messy house and a sink full of dirty dishes, I bet. Argh.
September 10, 2007 at 11:56 pm | Filed under a waste of human capital, bitchin' a ride, mr wonderful
I’m getting more and more aggravated with my job, and I’m seriously thinking about resigning. This is how I usually feel on Mondays, the most stressful day of the week, but this has been my disposition the whole week last week. In the beginning (aka these past six months), I was somehow able to contain my annoyance; now, the novelty has worn off, I’m quickly losing my patience with the account, and I constantly find myself in a bad mood.
The only thing holding me back from tendering my resgination is that I don’t have time to look for (yet) another (call center) job. I need to get out of this industry, and I swear I will. Eventually.
Moving on to happier un-stressful things, I once again had a calorie-laden sexy-mancandied weekend involving the sinful combinations of cupcakes and ice cream, rum and cola, and (a lot of) fried chicken and rice. Life in binaries, how fun.
Diet. This week. Waking up on a Sunday morning chanting “Cupcakes cupcakes cupcakes!” speaks volumes about how out of control we are.
Something the mancandy sent me that got me giggling at 730pm:
“You really don’t see it?”
I really don’t. :cute:
(He’s been insisting the whole weekend that I have Vanessa Hudgens angles. I’m amused, but I think it’s simply old age affecting his eyesight. Also, I’m going easy on the blush.)
September 7, 2007 at 5:01 am | Filed under bitchin' a ride
I hate it when my temper gets the best of me (because a bad mood is no excuse to be rude to other people), but I hate it more when I can’t do anything about it but suck it up and try my hardest to keep calm. And sulk. And wallow in self-pity for feeling as powerless as this.
I want nothing more than to starve myself to skinniness and lock myself up in my room.
ARGH.
August 14, 2007 at 10:25 pm | Filed under bitchin' a ride, camwhorage
Because my discipline and self-control (which were never really much, to begin with) can be likened to a two-dollar ho (cheap and easy. Okay, so maybe just easy) whenever faced with ice cold beer and mounds of cooked rice, my midsection is now disgustingly out of shape.
“WTF, did I swallow a keg?” pose.
I CAN PINCH AN INCH!
Beer. It’s bad for you.
Years ago, not only did I have a flat tummy, I actually had badass! swimmer abs. Of course, when you’re a 13-year old highschool sophomore surrounded by genetically skinny girls with numchucks for arms and legs, the 3 Ts (thin, tan, and toned?) go unappreciated (if not hated). Okay, so I wasn’t thin then; ‘athletic’ would be the more apt term. But I definitely wasn’t this fat.
I know there’s nothing more unattractive than unloading body drama on other people, so I won’t. But just to say: I do not have body dysmorphic disorder (Jesus, look at how ugly my belly button is! And my cellulite count outnumbers the population of Japan! And look how tight XXL panties are on me!)— on the contrary (and because I’m such a weird), there are certain regulation body defects of mine that I find cute. LIKE MY STRETCH MARKS. I think they add character. This is coming from a person who thought the same of burning cigarette holes into her Miriam College skirt (”Helga, WTF are you doing?!” “Adding character!” “No. You’re drunk.” “Yeah. That, too.”).
Tomorrow, I start working out again.
Hi, my name's Helga Weber and welcome to my personal site. I'm 23. My first socio-political scandal will happen at the age of 35 and will include men, sushi, an African country, and lots of money. My lover is the greatest. 
