I was told yesterday i only had about 2 days left in my internship. God-fucking-damnit. I finally get used to a darn good job which I happen to like, and now my days are numbered. Even if the pay was basicaly bird feed. I don't care. I was happy.
There was only one thing that made me feel a little... uneasy about the place. Ever since I was hired with pay after the college internship was done, I really wasn't meant to be there. That place was reserved to some fucktard who maybe found a better offer, not just a "summer program", which is where I am stuck now. I was squeezed in there somehow, with no equipment to work, no place to even sit, doing actual work at short intervals throughout the day, only getting to work properly when people called in sick (which happenned quite a few times, ...Keep reading.

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Ugh... I almost feel as if i was following some sort of fad, like when I bought me a furby.
Yes, a furby. I bought one. Problem? Tell it to my assistant. Her name is Fukoff. She's half russian, half japanese.
It's not the first time I do this, as a matter of fact I used to do this exact same thing on an old notebook I had lying around, which, of course, I had to destroy. Wrote some pretty nasty, hurtful shit on that one. Dark time, were those (circa 2000). I only kept remnants of the things I liked, which in turn became part of the essays I've published, once I distilled all the venom and chopped off some of the whining.
However, there was one other person who ever read that little notepad from hell. Now, I have the advantage of spreading a daily (if I feel ...Keep reading.

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