the wonders of selective grammar usage

Anyone who said that you can't put a price on love obviously never dealt with Verizon Wireless.  (sigh)

I'm starting to dislike people very much.

A coworker of mine hit on me at work yesterday.  I whipped out the boyfriend card (not literally, because the picture of us was on my other notepad), and still he pushed the issue.  Do I live with my boyfriend?  No, but why does it matter?  God, why?

What is it about me that makes people want to hit on me?  First the really short Asian guy who keeps telling me (in front of his friends, no less -- pressure?) that I need to go out on a date with him, then lecherous Jed of Furniture (he's seen pictures of Nick and still asks me what I'm doing every night while giving me the up-downs), then the creepazoid, then this gangly white guy who asks me "how's it goin', shorty?" while eyeing me, and now the coworker...

Is it because Nick's not here and they feel that they have a chance because our relationship isn't valid in some way? Do I send signals that I'm not aware of? Am I just a creep magnet in person, but a frickin' metal detector online that happened to find a gold mine of caring?

(sigh) I just don't get it.  Men of the (LJ) world, please elaborate for me.

Lorelei just boarded a bus today for the first time and I was left behind, watching it carry her away to her first day of school.

(sigh)

In other news, I'm in the midst of writing a scathing post re: that stupid stupid club for my 1UP blog. I'm sure that it'll make me tons of new friends -_- but honestly, the people who would stick up for "organizations" like that aren't really worth crying myself to sleep over because they deleted me off of their friends list.

I'll post the entry here, too, when I'm done. As I told Matt last night, it's not going to be "OMG U LOOSERZ" quality, but I'm not going to hold back, either.

It's crap like this that make me shudder when called a "girl gamer".

Not many things drive me to swear in this world. This "clan" is one of them.

... as a certain friend once wrote in a certain post, ( you probably don't want to know. trust me. ) ::waves fist + asian glare = really pissed at this very moment::

I'm not the most sociable person today.

I just want to call in sick.  I can't imagine faking the retail charm for eight hours.  I can't call in sick, though -- I need to pay the bills, to save money for the trip, to set aside the cash to finally buy that Otakon ticket...

... but it's hard to see clearly when your eyes are welling up with tears.

Work was horrible today.  It's never great, by any measure known to man, but it was nowhere near tolerable, either.  I'm going to get chewed out for things that I just couldn't help -- when you're to cover three busy departments AND be a backup cashier, it's hard to get everything done.  Forget retail crushing the new kid's spirits -- it's already smothered mine.

I've been in a mood since I talked to PJ today.  Apparently, I had, in the midst of our fighting and separating, forgotten completely about the joint account we had at Circuit City that I was paying off.  Because of that, I've basically fucked up his credit (I was only a cardholder) and I can't shake this massively massive feeling that the only purpose I served in his life was to fuck it all up in the end.  I told him that whatever charges on the card, and whatever monetary damages incurred as a result of my idiocy I'd pay back, too.  It's hard, because this was the first time we'd actually talked to each other for more than five curt sentences.  It was actually quite amicable considering the circumstances, which made me feel only slightly better... but still.  I can't help but feel like a major bitchmonger.

That, coupled with Lorelei being gone until Friday and having the one person that ultimately makes me feel better across the sea, makes me dread going home to that sterile, empty house.  For once in my life, a California king sized bed just seems too... vast.