I really want this poster of Bondage!Clark they have in Virgin, but the part of me that still clings to the tattered shreds of my dignity insists that I can't lower myself to being the kind of person who has pictures of Tom Welling on her wall. For a start, I'm not bald or a billionairre... Damn you, tiny fragments of Froodlish pride.

In other news, a very annoying weekend at work. Got no studying done, as was forced to train a new starter, and am also faced with either having to take on extra hours to comply with stupid new policy that all employees must work a minimum of 20 hours per week, or getting fired, end up with no money and be forced to sell one of my kidneys in order to pay my bills. Situation not helped by the fact that Idiothairdresser appears to have been exposed to some kind of cosmic ray of Superannoyingness, turning her into a vast glowing cloud of pure rage-inducing stupidity that knaws on the paper-thin margin seperating civilized people from cannibalistic space rapists and talkshow hosts. Eventually either my spleen will burst from bile or my sanity and I will finally and permanently part ways when I leap over the desk with a cry of "Stop having shouted conversations across the office while I'm on the phone, you fucking stupid bint!", gouge out her eyes with my fingers and devour them before my horrified coworkers.