fantasticmuse

Ladies and Gentlemen and Denizens of Livejournal:

I live.

No, seriously. Not only do I live, but I live well. I do not feel like shit. I am no longer diseased. When I woke up this morning after eight hours of sleep (as I have gotten for the past two weeks) I didn't feel so exhausted I could cry.

Like a light in the darkness, good glory and hallelujah. It's an absolutely beautiful day outside. When I woke up, it was to sun and warmth. I stumbled out of the bedroom, to the living room, where I noticed that Tiff had gone and left the door open. I went to close the door when I noticed two things. One, I could hear she and Ryan talking in his apartment and two, there was the most delicious smell ever in the hallway.

Ryan had made homemade croissants. From scratch. Omg. *eats them ALL*

So, what have I been up to? I shall update in bullet form, because while I feel fine, I am still lazy beyond all reasoning of nature.

* Been looking for a job. I was informed that I'm getting kicked off my parent's insurance on May 31st. I need a job with benefits or a job that pays enough for me to secure insurance by then.

* In connection with said job, I'm looking at moving to Minneapolis. I am not opposed to moving other places, so long as those other places are a city. Wherever the job market leads me, I guess.

* News flash! Newspaper Adviser still an asshole. More at ten.

* Nah, I'm not gonna write any more about him. He's an asshole.

* I'm, uh, gonna go have coffee with him in a couple hours. Fuck.

* I bought a new home for my fishy! It's a much larger, pretty, glass bowl. He is v. happy.

Yeah, that's about it.

But now that I'm feeling better, you know what to expect. An enormous cate picspam of wellness. It will be happing, friends, oh yes.

Now, tell me good things in the comments. Porn, happy thoughts, pictures, whatever. I deserve good things, dammit. If you can't think of anything good, comment anyway and I will provide a happy thought for you.


With love,
El

Still in office.

Printer refused to print double-truck spread.

Spent all afternoon/night redesigning said spread.


Send help.

Ugh.

Many, many things have gone wrong with today and I am demanding a do-over, dammit. Also, if anyone knows a good voodoo cure for the headcold from hell, please feel free to share with me.


For now, a love letter. Of sorts.


Dear thiran,

Today, in class, one of my professors kept explaining that "together, we have synergism."

It took all my restraint to keep me from yelling "SYNERGISM, JANE."

This is all your fault.


Your mother's a whore,
-fantasticmuse



That's all. Carry on.

Today's lesson, children, is "always have a plan B."

I've got a hole in my front page six columns by oh... about 9 inches, I think. Lead photo was supposed to be of a one-man show tonight. A show that has been canceled because the actor's father passed away. And the paper goes to bed tonight.

I'm not panicking yet.

Yet.


It's a pretty big hole, though... *grim face* Better get to work finding a new picture.

Holy fricken' lord.

Ashley, the assistant editor called last night at about 10. The paper wasn't done. It goes to press TODAY at 11.

See, our head editor, Jake, was hired despite the fact that he has NO EXPERIENCE WHATSOEVER.

He was going to write an article about an alum that was killed in a car accident this weekend. I designed my front page, left a spot for it, and he was suppose to place it last night.

Heh.

Needless to say, the article Ashley and I got was less than perfect. It was copied word for word from an obituary of some sort, then he just blathers on about how we should live each day to the fullest or some crap.

Fuck. Well, okay. So I take his article, re-write it so it's not plagiarism, and try to figure out what to do with the second page.

Oh, did I forget to mention? His article was suppose to jump to the second page and fill the whole thing. HA HA HA. Really funny.

Anyway, Ashley stayed up til 6am working, Richard pinch hit a column to help fill the second page (500 words in an hour, not bad!) And I mentally re-arranged everything so I could fix it today.

Got up early this morning to head to the office, and what do I see but the crappy article ALREADY PLACED. It's on my front page, in all it's plagiarized glory. ARG.

Not only that, but Jake's decided to re-arrange everything on the second page that Ashley stayed up until 6 fucking am to work on. And making look like crap. He actually wanted to CUT Richard's article- so his crappy editorial could go in. WHAT THE HELL. THE BOY HELPED US OUT AND YOU DON'T WANT HIS ARTICLE TO RUN?

Fuck you, sir. Hard, with sharp objects.

And as if all of that isn't bad enough, Ashley called the Adviser, because, y'know, help? And what does he say? "I should really keep my hands out of decisions like this."

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

Am I wrong, or should an adviser actually ADVISE every once in a while. This isnt' the first time something like this has happened.

I swear to god, Ashley deserves a medal for all that she's had to put up with. She pretty much singlehandedly makes sure the paper doesn't suck.

Christ. I'm going to take her out to dinner when this year's over. She deserves so much love.

Meeting soon. Nervous. Fear that I may be blamed and fired.

*curls up*


So nervous!