Blog Like it's the End of the World Day

I don't really feel like writing about zombies right now, I know--what a shock. I'm at work all dang day and don't really have the time. Then again, I might feel like it later, or else I'll post a fun zombie short story as a neat treat for the all of you's.

Finally I figured out what's been going on with AIM. Apparently there's a thing called a "Salmon Bot" that sends messages to two random people who have LJ's. Several times now I've had total strangers (with salmon in their user name) pop up on AIM and ask me why I'm IMing them. It was totally confusing, though I knew all along it was some kind of spam craziness. One chick actually threatened to call the cops on me--so she was either 12 or in her 60's. heheheheheh! Actually, I didn't "figure it out" someone told me. ;-]

I don't like Hillary Clinton anymore. Her behavior during the primaries has been ridiculous. Old news, I know, but I just felt like discussing it. Even more than her though, I hate FOX news and their slanty bullshit. The "baby mama" thing is just the tip of the liberal-slamming iceberg. I added the Raw Story feed to my flist, and now I'm getting 20-30 angry political posts a day. The posts themselves are not so angry, but they are angrying up my blood. I'm not sure how long I'll keep them around.

What was the first rated R films to win an Academy Award after the introduction of MPAA's rating system? No cheating!

My work presentation is today. Wish me luck!!

A Zombie Story for the all of you's:

I'm sure you all know I couldn't really miss Blog Like it's the End of the World Day.
For serious.

So here's a short story one or two of you might have read before, but I'm sure most of you have not. It recalls both my love of zombies and my hatred of fast food jobs, and was written for an anthology called Fast Food, Slow Death which did not accept it.



The Growlers
By:
Wednesday Lee Friday



"I hate this job…I hate this job…I hate hate hate," Judy rocked back and forth on her aching feet and debated walking out and going home. The new tile under her feet was sunny yellow and actually quite pretty. They had taken away her foot padding to show it off, and now she was in pain from toe to shoulder. She wanted to go home.
No one deserved to work in such an oppressive environment. The petit brunette wiped her brow with the back of her hand and proceeded to wipe that on her flour covered apron, leaving a pale streak on her forearm. It was nearly 95 degrees in the kitchen; and she was confined to a three by three foot square next to it with nothing but a cash register and a speaker box to share her pain.
"Burgers and More how can I help you?" Judy spoke mechanically into the tinny talking device. She'd given up being cheerful months ago; there was no point.
"Uh yeah, are you guys open?" No you moron, I answered the speaker because we're fucking closed. ( behold, the mass murdering goodness )

In other news, my presentation went well. My supervisor said I did a "great job" so I guess that means the job I did was great. Whoo Hoo! That is a big deal for someone who is decidedly sub-par at their job. I think they just like having me around...