Sunday, 06/24/2007 - 10:59 p.m.
...other people will notice. You won't have to blow your own horn.
MENSAdude, who makes a point *every* fucking time at the Tuesday meetings to come over to our banquet room and remind us repeatedly he's in MENSA, is a cashier at the local Big Name Hardware Place. I hurt myself trying not to laugh directly in his face today. Shallow? You betcha. Callous? You betcha. Going to ask him how the check-out position is working out the next time he pops over to our meeting to be snooty and pretentious? You betcha. Being a bitch has its perks.
And having said all that about not blowing your own horn, I went up for auction at the local dungeon last night. Not only did I look *spectacular*, I went for the highest bid.
I was with Dr. Evil a couple nights ago and our circulator said I did a pretty good job as assistant. In front of the dr. I said "He didn't yell at me or throw me out so I must have done OK" and he laughed. Actually laughed, which is not something he does. He told us that he'd only thrown 1 person out ever, which made me feel better about working with him. It's hard to explain thru pixels and the written word how much stress and pressure that took off me about working with him. I don't dread going in his room near as much as I used to now.
I still don't want to go to work tomorrow either way.
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