  It's raining. Was thinking "damn, it's raining, can't go to the lake," but since I only just woke up, I suppose that the rain is a good thing - at least I can't bitch about wasting another perfect summer day in bed. Not working tonight, though I am scheduled in. Mama told me and Kurt to 'skip this one', as poppa's ire is still pretty ireful. It's only four hours, I guess, but it's the start of more hours lost since Mama thinks it best to avoid any confrontation for the time being.
I agree with her, but I keep on thinking that it's ultimately stupid to continue working there. How long can I dodge Poppa? Why the whooping fuck should I even have to? Thing is, I don't even know what I did to piss him off in the first place. He's not talking to anyone about it. No one knows what I did to piss him off, which is pretty durn peculiar at work; usually someone knows something; and even more often everyone knows everything. Kurt thinks that Poppa was offended when I called in sick the other day. Poppa knows I don't like working with him, but the sick thing was really a sick thing, allbeit not a cold or flu.
Ahh well, it'll all come out in the wash. Or something. The peace that has come with the change in numbers is extraordinary. I figured I'd be more relaxed, but holy cow, I'm pretty much blissful. The only possible canker left is that they do have my folks' number, and that is entirely uncool. However, my mother is the type of lady who truly enjoys telling people off, in particular, telling people who threaten her young in any way, shape or form off. I get my need to be needed thing from my mom. When people need her, she flourishes; I've never seen anyone so tough. Applied to a photo place, alas, I applied with an unupdated resume, so the number is wrong. Left a slightly rambling message to inform them of my new number.
Going to have to go down to visit them to explain further, I think. Besides, it will give me the oppurtunity to beg, wheedle and cajole for their job. The job is a general assistant type person, and there are plans for this assistant type person to become rather trained in photography, and film development. There's likely to zillions of people applying, and I sort of doubt I'm qualified, but pllllllllease oh pllllllllllllleaaassseee give me this job, Lord, and I promise to be a very good girl. And an exceptional photo shop assistant type person. I love the idea of getting trained to do stuff, and photography is cool, and appealing, and I know I can be good at it.
Dad had a slick ass minolta when I was growing up, I always wanted to master it. And the idea of developing one's own pictures - well, suffice to say, i really would like this job. 
