"So, this is the thanks I get for working 'overtime.'"

What a day.  What an incredibly frustrating day.  I had so much rage on that day.

Of course, at a real job, I wouldn't dream of going on Facebook or any other website I could get into trouble for unless I was on my lunch break or unless I was certain that no one was going to be around.  After my years of experience with working at the library, I am more inclined to say that it is not a "real" job.  The stuff I do does not require my full attention during the whole shift, and there are sometimes very long stretches where NOTHING happens.

I hardly ever use Facebook while I'm at the library.  I know that it's not a responsible thing for me to do, but here's why I'm writing about how angry I am that I got in trouble for it:

Text me, baby.

Sorry for the semi-lame post, but I'm on holiday!

I have a lot of interesting text messages on my phone that I don't want to delete, but that I should for memory's sake.  Haha.  Phone memory.  But I'm writing the texts up here for my own memory.

I did use first names, and I hope that's okay with everyone.

P.S.  Good thing I did this before my phone died ... because it died last week!

Stop shooting me, the messenger.

I am seriously so tired of getting heckled by customers who do not understand that there are rules in place and that "students" like me cannot break them.

Don't people realize that I could get fired for breaking these rules?  And anyway, even if I could break them, why in the HELL do you think that I would stick my neck out for you if you're going to be a total d*ck to me?  And, seriously, this is a LIBRARY.  You are getting these things for FREE.  Why are you going to b!tch and moan about something that is FREE?  This is one of the best media libraries in the country, be grateful or show some dignity or SOMETHING.

A new job and my new problems.

For a lot of my friends, none of this is new information.  Some of my friends have no idea that I work full time, but split between two part time jobs.  Of course, I am continuing my work in the media library as that cute girl who checks out DVDs (one of many cute girls, I should say).  I did secure an awesome position as a clinical research assistant last February.  This job has been ridiculous, and it is definitely going to be an experience I will remember throughout my life.  I am gathering data for a pilot study, and our end goal is to formulate a newer and briefer intervention to prevent drug overdose in a population at risk (people who have shown a recent history of pain medication misuse and a lifetime history of drug overdose).  I am required to drive up to Flint (from Ann Arbor) and talk with the patients of the Emergency Department at Hurley Medical Center.  There are so many crazy stories from within the ED, and those I will save for another juicy post.  Here, I will share with you my terrible travel tales.

Thank goodness my parents were gracious enough to give me a car.  I am so grateful.

My Special Morning

Mondays, f*cking Mondays.  Monday mornings are the worst.  They mark the official end of the weekend and the beginning of another exhausting work week.

Today was an especially ridiculous  Monday morning.  The story involves coffee, sh!t (not related to the coffee), geese, and other seemingly unrelated things.

A unique rejection letter.

I received a very ... appalling letter from a particular medical school.  I thought about censoring the identity of the medical school and deleting parts of the letter, but then I decided against it because I thought it would take away from the legitimacy of the whole thing.  Below is the letter I received, word for word and straight out of my gmail, and my just-as-ridiculous response (that I would send if I weren't so reasonable and professional).

Just another "Brown Party"

Here's a somewhat funny situation that happened to me a few months ago.  Brown parties are always a unique scenario.  I know that my better gingery half HATES going to them, because it's gotta be tough being the only white guy in the room.  Anyway, a series of incredibly frustrating events began shortly after my arrival at a family friend's house.  This family has known me for almost my entire life, but it was hard for me to even tolerate being at their house because they had three younger boys.  Therefore, dealing with four younger boys (if you include my brother) and none of my friends was AWFUL.

As soon as I walked into the house, it was almost as if I was slapped.  It was the first time anyone besides my friends and immediate family had seen my newly highlighted hair.  What was the reaction?

Evil in the World?

A good friend and I had a discussion a while ago about bad people.  She believed that bad people didn't exist, but I believe that they do.

What defines a bad person?

Once Upon a Time, I was a waitress.

It's been a while since I've written.  I am super bad at updating, apparently, so I'm going to spend today working on a bunch of posts so that I can really try to update weekly!

Now, this story has been on my mind for a couple of months, but it still really irritates me.  My real friends already know about this story, but here it is.

Best Break Ever.

This vacation was a fantastic way to celebrate with my friends, relax, and to close off my college career.  I had been dreaming of a vacation like this for years and years:  one with no parents, one with a boyfriend, one to a foreign country, one with sunshine and warm weather, one with natural beauty ... ah.  So much perfection in this vacation.

Of course, with perfection comes (although slight and pretty much negligible and probably funny) imperfections, if that even makes sense.  Of course, I already have told the story of getting pulled over by the cops and other driving screw-ups... but that was before the REAL vacation began.