glitter all around

Wow. WNBA fucking rocked.


[Photo credit brabble-cam]

Unlike Sunday's game, the score was neck and neck through the first half. But Seattle Storm really took off running during the second half, with MVP Betty Lennox pounding the court and racking up points. I seriously need a picture of Lauren Jackson's rawr face after getting fouled unfairly and then immediately scoring.

We shrieked ourselves hoarse and our hands were raw by the end of the game. It was very exciting. We lamented our lack of bang-y thingies. Those plastic sticks that fans beat together to make noise.

Storm won by a safe margin of 74-60.

Walking back to the parking lot amid hysterical, jubilant fans, I pointed out a woman carrying a bunch of the bang-y thingies.

Me: I need the bang-y thingies. Not just during games. But in my personal life.
Sarah: Uh huh.
Me: Oooo. I would be such a menace!
Sarah: You're a menace without them.
Me: *cackle*

I suggested Sarah knock the woman down and give me the opportunity to make off with some bang-y thingies. Sarah declined and came up with the novel concept that I ask the woman if I could have some. So I timidly approached the woman and asked if they were for sale. She said, "No. But here, have a set." She handed me two shiny plastic bang-y thingies as I gaped over my sudden, unexpected fortune.

I proceeded to annoy the hell out of everyone, while careful to hide from Sarah's baleful gaze and the potential threat of having bang-y thingies taken away from me and tossed summarily into traffic.

Oh my god. It's fucking 5:30am and I have to be at work at 10am. I am going to be fucked up tomorrow. Whee!

argh

Must. Stop. Eating. Fat-free. Caramel. Popcorn.

hiss. hiss. hiss.

Completely spazzing out today.

I'm exhausted from little sleep. I had a busy day at work where my brain was entirely required, if not entirely present. I have an enormous technical exam to complete before my 10am interview tomorrow. For a company I don't want to work for, in a job I don't want, but desperately need to take if I get anyway.

I have a 9pm meeting with Ellie tonight to rework another cover letter for another job for her company that I will be rejected for again. And it's an entry level position, 4mos contract. Ah. The sweet taste of humility.

I have that 10am interview tomorrow. I have to return the weirdass cpu fan back to CompUSA out in the boonies. I have to mail back this disc this company sent me that I didn't want, and if I don't return it they'll charge me $60 for it. Grr. Grr.

I have to write out a series of questions I have about the technical position for tomorrow's interview, because I both want to sound like I give a fuck, and I'd actually like to know the answers.

I have a meeting with Jeff, bless his heart, who rescheduled from tonight to tomorrow night to rework my resume for technical writing for a company that I'm more interested in working for.

I need to send my resume to half a dozen tech editing outsourcing firms as well as pass it on to the husband of a friend who works for a company I'm interested in working for.

My flat is in complete shambles with computer pieces strewn across the bedroom floor but I lack the whatever to straighten it all up since I'm waiting for my new case to be shipped to me and so I'm just stepping over wires and screwdrivers and boxes and bags and omfg my bathroom is a mess with cat litter EVERYWHERE.

FUCK I don't know if I know where I put the CompUSA receipt. Oh wait. There it is. In another bag. On the floor.

My knee really really REALLY fucking hurts from charging down Queen Anne Hill yesterday, when we were running late for the game. Should have taken ibuprofen last night, but didn't because it didn't hurt yet, so this morning they're badly swollen and stiff and RAWR. The ibuprofen I took this morning has made nary a dent in the pain. I should ice pack it but I don't want to sit here holding ice packs to my knees while I try to do 10billion other things.

I've had two cups of fat-free caramel popcorn to fuel this day on.

WHINE.

But brabble is wonderful. I'd melodramatically hurled myself under the covers when she called to calm me down. She's coming over to share the misery and make me stop running around in circles and work on my tech exam, while she works on her own interview/jobshit stuff.

pounce

For yea, I am a meme-whore. These are just wild guesses, because I have no idea what half the people on my friend's list might do. They are wacky, wacky people.

( I have this and you don't. )

bitch, bitch, bitch

I don't understand why cover letters have to be so motherfucking godawful. I hate them. Ellen makes me write a new one for every job I apply. Which I understand is necessary. But each one is so painstaking, it makes me want to scream. She is an angel for reading them over and giving me suggestions, but I never have any idea how to implement her suggestions. It's fucking DATA ENTRY. How juiced up can I possibly sound about it? I'm trying to downplay my previous experience because I'm obscenely overqualified. And they're still not going to hire me.

It's a fucking peon position, not the director of a large corporate segment. How fucking detailed and ass sucking does my cover letter have to be.

ARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

WE HAAAAAATES THEM!!

God. Just fucking hire me already.

I keep applying. And I mean, is it really my cover letter that isn't getting me hired. Dude at B-Wire actually took the time to compliment it. Of course I spent a WEEK on that motherfucker. Did I get the job? NO. So what the fucking fuck already.

And of course it totally depends on who you talk to. Meghan was saying that she just tosses cover letters out unread because what's the point, she can see the resume. I read them when I was hiring. And guy at B-W said that he threw out resumes that came without one, or were minimalistic. So RAWR.