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Apr. 11th, 2006

azurelunatic: Pool noodle inscribed with "Frickin' Clue Bat" (frickin' clue bat)
Went to see Darkside Sunday night. Got home, felt smug, checked LJ &c, and crashed hard. I was feeling sufficiently tired that I wouldn't have objected if he'd offered me the opportunity to curl up on his floor and catch some Zs while he took his nap. (His floor is a dangerous place.)

I went out around 7. By 1, I was awake again. An hour of not being able to sleep, and I was up and online, hanging with Support until 6-ish. Then, more sleep.

I didn't wake up early enough to go do plasma. Rather, I woke up early enough to, but I wasn't coherent early enough to. So I stayed in and felt more energetic for it. I took the car to work.

I found that while I'd theoretically signed up for an extra shift to dial on the client call with $ISSUE_SIDE_JOB, I wasn't on the list. The Princess wrote me in and gave me a booth.

There were five bazillion things wrong with the booth, the upshot of it all being that I wasn't really getting any calls. After fifteen minutes of monkeying around, I'd just sit there, flag the Princess down when two minutes had gone by without any call action, and she'd do something to the computer and I'd get a call. (I learned later that she was doing "SESAME", which sends a call to the booth. If any @*%#$@ supervisor SESAMEs me when I'm after a call editing again, I will personally come up and do unspeakable things to the unspeakable of an unspeakable. It's happened before when I was actually doing something job-related, and it pissed me the hell off.) Since this was fairly impractical to do every time, I wound up going out to the dialer menu and right back in again after every call, which was massively annoying and tedious.

At length, I wound up klutzing my cup of water, which spilled all over the phone. This had the unique and unspeakable effect of activating the unit's mute button every time the unit was prepared to take a call. It did not activate it when it was in another state, but every time it was on line and ready to take calls, the mute button went on. (It lights up red when it's on.)

This state of affairs was unspeakable, so I moved to another booth.

My production had been dreadful when I hadn't been getting any calls; I hadn't gotten any surveys. When in the new booth, I got a survey almost right away. Glee!

I also got a page of writing on Circle of Fire and five morning pages. I'm wondering if I maybe couldn't work 6 days a week, one of them being on the phones so I'll have the mind-time to get writing done again.

At 5pm I decided I'd really had enough, but it was 5:30 before I bowed out and got the hell off the phones. I managed to make it to the plasma place before they closed (traffic was light enough, yay) and was rewarded by Narnia to watch. Jadis is truly dreadful! The older!Lucy and older!Susan actors are deeeeeelicious. It was just as well that it's a good movie, for I had no actual reading material...

Apartment has been reasonably tidied. I'm ready for the inspection tomorrow. I hope it doesn't wake me up. Not that I thought that my clutter previously was an actual problem, but I know that they know that things are always tidied for inspection, and I did not want them to think that my usual cheerful jumble of things was how it is when I clean up, because that is just not so.

Now. Sleep.
azurelunatic: a modification of the Oxidizer hazard label reading 'Caution Flaming Asshole'  (flaming)
(via [livejournal.com profile] dduane) Christians Sue for Right Not to Tolerate Policies

Warning: disconnected ramble

BJ had these smug little "Yooo-uuu're going to Hee-llllll" T-shirts that he'd gotten through his church. They were intended to be friendly reminders that sin is real and hell is real and unless you step smartly, you're DOOMED! He wore them to work. He wouldn't listen to me about how much I hated them. When work told him to cut it the fuck out, he complained bitterly to me. He didn't get no sympathy from me, because I was the one who bloody well complained to work about the shirts in the first place. I kept hoping that the washing machine would eat them.

News flash: Orientation, whether it's genetic, developed, or both, is a deeply fundamental part of someone's being. It's not something you can turn off and on. It is something that you can repress, ignore, embrace, be discreet about, shout from the rooftops, exaggerate, or just go with the flow. Any specific religion is less inherently part of a person's being than sexuality is, even though it was taught to you as Right and the Only Way from when you were in the cradle on up, though there seems to be a common need among many people to have religion.

"Lifestyle" is ... good gods. The flamboyant metropolitan campy flaming gay thing is a lifestyle. The flaming public anti-gay activist is also a lifestyle. Those people had to choose to take that dark underside of their personality public. It's not an acceptable choice. It's wrong. They can think anything they like in the privacy of their own heads and their little private groups, but inflicting their lifestyle on the rest of us is unacceptable.

That's how it looks from the other way around, you inexplicable things.

If you're going to fight for the "right" to harass people, damn straight I will fight to harass you right back. Which is why campuses develop anti-harassment policies, because this could escalate to the point of violence and rioting.

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