... huh.

And in yet another sign of there's-no-way-you're-backing-out-of-this-college-thing-now-asshole, I just ordered the new netbook I need to replace my old one for school.

I was going to wait until I got either my paycheck for the two weeks of extra overtime I plan to do from now until Saturday or my tax return or my refund from school, but I want to have it for the first day of classes which are in precisely, oh, sixteen days. So I applied for a credit account to get the netbook, which I plan to cancel as soon as I pay off the netbook, which I plan to do ASAP.

I may still be trying to get over the fact that I applied for a line of credit for something and a giant hand didn't immediately emerge from my computer screen to point at me accompanied by a disembodied Nelson Muntz laugh.

Hell, I'm still trying to get over the fact that I applied for a car loan and got it, and that happened eight months ago. Heh.

In other news, I had to leave work early tonight because my stomach decided that it wanted to feel like it was going to execute (but didn't actually want to execute) a more realistic interpretation of Bella's puke geyser from "Breaking Dawn". (Yes, I know she puked blood and my stomach just wanted to eject two strawberry teas. The point stands.) I felt bad about leaving forty-five minutes early, but I'd already spent a good hour and a half doing more running back and forth to the bathroom than actual work and just couldn't take it anymore.

Speaking of work ...

Dear customers:

A.) If you are a doctor, you should know full well that it's a dumb idea to go get a three-month supply of two different kinds of brand medication two weeks before the end of December when you're so sure you're "only" six hundred bucks away from the coverage gap.

B.) Please don't piss and moan to me about Obama being a horrible socialist and then complain because he didn't raise your cost-of-living for Social Security. If he really were a horrible socialist, he would have raised the FUCK out of it.

C.) No, seriously, please stop bitching about Obama. I'm a phone jockey, not his personal secretary.

D.) Oh, and by the way, insurance premiums go up EVERY year. Obama did not skip gleefully into the offices of every insurance office from Disney World to Walla Walla and twirl his mustache while ordering us all to raise our rates.

E.) Thank God for the few absolute sweethearts out there who understand that complaining about Obama to me doesn't do jack, that I don't make the decisions, that I'm sympathetic to the lack of a stupid COL increase for Social Security payments this year, and that it's entirely possible that I myself agree with you that drug costs in this country are a massive pile of suckitude and that I wish keeping people alive wasn't always accompanied by large dollar signs.

Compare and contrast.

Last night at work when I was ill, the woman on my left -- who worked with me at my last job at the CD factory and has therefore known me for years now -- was constantly asking me if I was okay and if I needed to go throw up.

Debbie Downer, on my right, was so busy obsessing over a caller who coincidentally stated, "Oh, there it is on your screen," when DD found the information she was looking for in the system (and was therefore OMG WATCHING HER FROM AFAR rather than, say, talking to a kid at her own damn house playing on the internet or something) that she didn't even notice that the entire time she was talking to me, I was resting my forehead on my folded arms and running back and forth to the bathroom for an hour straight.

The company that makes the invisible blinders she wears must be worth a FORTUNE.