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December 17, 2007

Expect more work. Pay less wages.

In what can best be described as temporary hypocrisy and desperation, I am seasonally employed at Target. I get to use a walkie talkie. I fold shirts and listen to the walkie talkie, and when they start freaking out about there not being enough cashiers, or if someone says, "team member Alena," I get to talk into it. I also like running the cash register because I get to talk to a wide variety of people, from rude/sullen/disgruntled, to only mildly irritated. I sort of like how everything is organized, there is a very specific place where everything has to go and there's a super efficient system for doing anything. Very obsessive compulsive, but satisfying to put together a wall of completely identical bottles of detergent. It appeals to the socialist in me. But we're talking about capitalism. And Target is winning. Their mission statement is "To be the best company ever."

The best part,
oh, the very best part,
is,
get this,
they have a shirt that says
"Think Global Act Local,"
written on it.
At Target.

I almost died.


Actually I did die.

Then I came home at 12:30 am, and my kitty was so excited, she ripped everything off the bottom 2 feet of the Christmas tree.

Now there is a ferocious snow storm and I can't go anywhere and I have nothing to do.

December 2, 2007

can't afford it.

Like so many other things, my life is a mess. More specifically, my life is the aftermath of an exploding letter bomb. Warped plastic emits an acrid odor, heat rising. Porcelain shrapnel, wood fibers, burnt fabric. Glittering glass decorating it all. The injured furniture are the only civilian casualties. Someone will have to buy new wallpaper. I need help cleaning.

WILL SOMEONE PLEASE GIVE ME A JOB. I HAVE APPLIED FOR SO MANY. WHY NO CALL BACK. NEED. MONEY. NOW. AUSTRALIA TOOK ALL MY MONEY. WANT IT BACK. NOW NEED MORE CREDIT CARDS. HATE LIFE. CAN'T AFFORD IT.