...way out on the corner of fucked up and evil...

I can't believe Supernatural gave me nightmares. I am such a loser. And it wasn't even about Sam's ominous squinty eyes, either. Incidently, everyone who told me it was superhomoerotic? You are liars and I hate you. And your children. And your children's children. For one month!

But, it's okay, because you know what is homoerotic? Oh yes, the Tribe! How spiteful is Bray dragging Lex off to do security detail on his honeymoon? Whatever, Bray. It's fine for you to tramp around with Danni, Possessor of the World's Most Annoying Voice*, but Lex gets hooked up and you turn into a jealous, whiny manbitch. Oh wait! You already were.

In other news, rumours that I may have stabbed someone in the leg with a cunningly concealed herd of knives are completely exaggerated, Snithy is a filthy, Robson Green-fancying, Smallville-buying liar and none of you are to believe her. No! Rumours that I forced her to sit through I Was A Teenage Vampire and endure the almighty horror that is Wilson in short-shorts, too much blusher and a really horrendous shade of lipstick are, however, accurate. WILSON WEARS SHORT-SHORTS! No, I did not make that up.

And in yet other news, I hate work so much at the moment. Idiothairdresser has just gone full-time, and while that would be dire news in itself, she managed to get her stupid townie-duck ass kicked off allocation (a job which kept her on the far side of the office from where I, lowly phone-monkey, reside) and now she sits at my workstation and I have to listen to her fucking bleating all day long and oh my God, I am going to stab her. And now I have to work ten days in a row because my supervisors basically gave me the choice between involuntary overtime and losing a day of my beautiful precious weekend, or having to do a ten-day stint but get all four days off. They are so totally taking the piss lately, and if this keeps up, I really will hand in my notice.

And! In some more news, finally my stupid-ass insurance company have gotten back o me about that break-in back in May - May! - apparently they "lost" my file and didn't bother to tell me until last week. Still, my brokers now have all my details and are saying they think it will be settled by next week. So yay!

Anyway, that's all I have time for now, as it is time for more Supernatural and perhaps some pie. And perfecting my cake-knife technique so that I can kill Idiothairdresser in a way that makes it look like an accident. Farewell!

*Apart from the Idiothairdresser, who, as previously mentioned, sounds like a townie-duck.

Have you ever had one of those days where you just want to smash your fist into somebody's face and then keep hitting them until they don't even look like a person anymore, just a raw slab of bloodied meat and tattered skin?

...no?

...uh, me neither. *shifty eyes*

Seriously, though. Some people are so fucking stupid, it should be illegal for them to go outside and pollute the world with their fucktardary. It's totally unfair that being wrathful is one of the seven deadlies, but driving someone to blind, murderous rage with your fucking dimwittedness isn't.

Fucking cunt.

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.

There's a new guy at work called Giles. Seriously. At first I thought he was messing around, but no, that's actually his first name. There are no words to describe how awesome that is. We also have a guy whose last name is Lister, but he always uses Mark at work, so that's no fun. Alexis and I are now on a quest to collect the entire cast of Buffy, even if it means cheating and "accidently" writing Angel instead of Angela on a call log. Unfortunately, there aren't a lot of viable alternatives for Buffy, but we're optimists at heart, so we perservere. Besides, dumbass breeders these days will name their poor kids anything.

And speaking of dumbasses and breeders, I feel I may soon snap and kill Idiothairdresser. For those of you who aren't subjected to my rantings and ravings either IRL or over MSN, Idiothairdresser is someone I work with who, as the name suggests, is both an idiot and a hairdresser. She also has the shrill, nasal voice charateristic of the Fuckwit Townie, and delights in regaling the office with tales of her drunken Friday night exploits, complete with a full catalogue of how many drinks she had, which clubs she had them in and what the drinks were. Needless to say, my hate for her burns like the power of a thousand Fanelias. The list of her crimes is endless, but includes being a Fuckwit Townie, being a Loud Fuckwit Townie, being annoying, engaging in Petty Office Politics, pissing me off, saying "I just can't get into reading" approximately fifty thousand times a day, usually when someone else is attempting to study or read, having a stupid voice, getting on my nerves, being thick, saying "I'm booooored!" in a whiny "entertain me" tone, and spending her time blathering about her insignificant, worthless existance when we're incredibly busy and being screamed at by customers because she's not doing her fucking job. I can only hope one day the giant flab-goiter which her double-chin has long since mutated into succeeds in it's quest to suffocate her while she sleeps. Grow, little flab-goiter, grow!