Fucking paperwork |2:03 PM|
I paid off my speeding ticket. I also found out there's a hearing for my bond money on December 30th. It's a couple hundred dollars, so I'll show up. 9:30am, December 30th. What is this crap?
I'm supposed to work on a couple front page updates. I'm doing overtime at work tonight, but I'll take the pictures and start writing tonight.
I owe Portal a bamboo plant. That reminds me, I need to order her Christmas gifts, and also order the ones for my family. Shit, I have no idea what my father wants.
Portal's gifts fall into the useful, the neato buy useless, and the pretty groups. I've got to price something on the day of Christmas to see if it's even reasonable in the slightest to buy it for her.
Toast. |2:32 PM|
I fucking hate my toaster. I want to make that really fucking clear.
I fucking hate my toaster.
It has a little computer brain in it, or so the box it came in claimed. Clearly, that little brain has gone bad. In fact, the malice my toaster shows me began on the first day. It burns everything. I cannot trust its little browning knob, that was put there as a fucking joke. What the hell kind of fucking browning knob has no discernible affect on the object-to-be-toasted?
As soon as I can I'm buying a toaster that's sturdy enough to beat my current toaster into about a hundred or so little pieces. I may in fact, purchase 2 toasters, and a long metal rod. I will weld one of the new toasters to the end of this rod, and then vent 2 years out on this toaster. 3 years of ruined bread, burst pop-tarts and blackened Eggo Waffles. 2 years of having to babysit the goddamn thing to make sure it wouldn't stick its glowing metal cocks into the metaphoric anime schoolgirl that was my baked good to-be-toasted.
Fucking toaster.
It's going into the box with the alarm clock that failed me. It's my electronics death row. I'm sure I've let that one power supply sit for long enough for the capacitors to discharge.
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