  Yeah, well, according to Poppa, Kurt and I are in a cult, we steal cigarettes, I called in sick because I was moving things with my mind, and undoubtably I'll hear more colorful bullshit in the days to come. He's won, I gave my notice, because Mama told me that this is unlikely to simmer down, and, if I chose to stay, she believes Poppa will drive a wedge in our friendship. Rather than see that happen, off I go to greener pastures, or something. Yeah, I'm pissed. But I am pretty convinced this isn't the hill to die on. I like working at the place, I enjoy and care for the people I work with. Had problems there, but yeah, no situation is going to be ideal. The funny thing is, I still don't know what I did to piss the guy off so much. Kurt's convinced that Poppa has the fucked up idea that Mama and I are going to run off together, and there are some things that Mama said that back that up a bit. I had no idea, though, that he'd be such a bitch. He took things said in confidence by kurt about my illness, and made them into a joke.
I'd like to think I'm pretty open about being depressed, about having weird thoughts, and trying to avoid weird impulses. I was not prepared to be on the ass end of Robyn-Is-Completely-Fucked-Up propaganda. And, of course, I'm feeling pretty wrong, and sick, and very very crazy. The power of suggestion, huh? Hey, Granger, mojo to you mmmkay? Don't let the bastard kids beat you down.
I'll go get my bat, we can have a Camper Bashing Day. Bah! I'm bummed. I need chocolate, and some hired goons. Not to mention money to pay my bills, and a job that gives me some measure of personal satisfaction. Anyone with any information regarding these matters will have my undying gratitude. (What an odd word, gratitude.. sounds like a form of processed cheese. ) 
