Good news, everyone!

Okay, so most people are aware that I take the D line to work everyday. Most people also know that there was a fatal crash yesterday evening. Fortunately I missed the crash by about 30 minutes. So hooray! I'm not dead! Although my parents thought I was for about an hour because they kept calling me while I was underground. Oops?

Another oops: this morning I realized that I had my Train Wreck button pinned to my jacket. I'm incredibly surprised that the MBTA employee even responded to me when I asked where I had to pick up the Riverside shuttle bus.

Anyway, I didn't actually see anything at Woodland, so you can bring your morbid curiosity elsewhere. In my completely unprofessional opinion, I'd say they're not going to finish cleaning this up and investigating until the weekend at the very least.

Step 4: Punch BLEAARRGGHH in the face.

Well, my manager sent out this hugely condescending mass email to make himself feel important. The mass email commands us to document something incredibly pointless that serves our business no purpose whatsoever. So I wrote out a huge note in Sharpie detailing everything he wants me (and every other person at my level) to do and pasted it to my wall.

Step four is to punch my manager in the face! My morale has never been higher!

Actually, I think the only thing that's keeping me from tearing my hair out is the fact that I'm finally getting my hair cut on Saturday afternoon. Work (drama) stress has not let up, but unfortunately, it might next Monday (yes, unfortunately). Also, I forgot my sister's birthday and I am therefore a horrible person. Argh.

What isn't younger than John McCain?

You cannot convince me that Imogen Heap's "Hide and Seek" is not about me and Dan Metthe.

Dear Democrats: Stop dragging out your damn primary. I stopped giving a crap at least a month ago.

Old (hurr hurr) news, but here are some things that are younger than John McCain. My dad got a good laugh out of it this afternoon.

Three day weekend. I seriously need this. What a horribly stressful month this has been!

Shitty couple of weeks and now Ted Kennedy has a malignant brain tumor? I don't think I could be more upset at this point.

Mmm. Zesty.

Dear World,

Please stop marketing yogurt with attributes it has always had and then making such a big deal about it that people believe that calcium in yogurt is a such a novel idea. "We dropped the fat content, but kept all the vitamins!" OH MY GOD I'M SO EXITED I THINK I PISSED MYSELF.

Thanks!
Erin Explosion

Boy am I glad this week is over. I've been overreacting and weepy and stressed all week. I think I need a higher dose of Wellbutrin. Too bad my company lied to me about when I would be eligible for insurance (and I won't even get into the serious, upsetting work drama that's been going on around lately). I guess being able to see a competent dentist and getting my wisdom teeth out would improve my morale considerably.

On the plus side, I bought Zesty Taco/Chipotle Ranch Doritos to make myself feel better about my shitty ass commute home today. Now if only they made bags of just Zesty Taco.. well, I'd probably weigh about 200 pounds. At any rate, I'm planning on parking my ass on the couch this weekend and watching as much Battlestar Galactica as Netflix will send me. I really need the downtime.

What the hell, everyone?

This morning I'm walking to work and this woman makes a right turn out of a driveway and manages to drive up and over the curb, forcing me to jump backwards to avoid getting hit (I was waiting for her to pull out so I could cross behind her, because I do not trust people who creep out to merge with traffic or make a turn). She didn't even look back, which to me, says she never saw me in the first place. It was broad goddamn daylight and I was not wearing camouflage, so what the fuck? I'm not even safe on the sidewalk anymore? What the hell, lady?

I get into work and I have to change my password. Apparently we had a massive attack on our database which resulted in one of the nicest guys I know at this company to work until at least 9:30 last night. Apparently "[h]undreds of thousands of websites around the world have been attacked by possibly the same attackers in the past two weeks." What the hell, people?

So, in case you didn't know, Burma/Myanmar is in huge political turmoil right now and they just got hit with a cyclone (about 20,000 people dead). I'm trying to donate what I think is a small amount of money to the Red Cross/Red Crescent and my credit card company declines the payment because it looks "suspicious," despite the fact that the organization has been around for over a century. I check my account online and it says that my account is on hold and to call customer service. So I'm on the phone with customer service and the woman tells me, "this is not a purchase you usually make." She may as well have finished that sentence with "you tightwad" or "you selfish bitch." Then they keep playing up how much money it is, and why that's so sketchy (did they not notice that I bought a pair of Birkenstocks a week ago? I'm a fucking hippie. You should know this). So I get transferred to fraud and everything is supposedly cleared up. I go to make the donation like 10 minutes later -- my card is still declined. What the hell, Capital One?

So, in an effort to cheer myself (and anyone else who is having a bad day) up, here's my favorite video ever that I always post: Fred Rogers appealing to Congress for more money for public broadcasting:



And his goodbye from when he retired --
"I'm just so proud of all of you who have grown up with us. And I know how tough it is some days to look with hope and confidence on the months and years ahead. But I would like to tell you what I often told you when you were much younger: 'I like you just the way you are.'":

Open letter to tenant unlikely to respond.

Dear Woman Who Lives Directly Above Our Apartment,

Good morning. And I'm certain it is a good morning, considering you were up bright and early at 5 am dropping a plastic suitcase full of bricks down the front stairs.

Though, perhaps you didn't get enough sleep. You came in at 11 pm last night. I know that you came in at 11 because you were yelling out to someone from the vestibule. The vestibule that our front door opens to. The front door that is in our bedroom.

I don't understand. You know that humans are occupying the apartment below you. I know this, because you referred to us in your high decibel conversation, saying you have no idea who we are. This makes no sense to me, as we were only referenced because you though you might be too loud and therefore disturbing us at 11 on a Sunday night.

I can deal with the fact that you seem to wear your heels in your apartment and you kind of have a heavy foot, so it sounds like the ladies room of an elephant wedding when you're home. I can even deal with the fact that you slam your door and run up and down the stairs for no reason, repeating the process several times in succession.

But seriously? What the hell? I did not appreciate waking up at 5 in the morning. This is because my alarm goes off at 6, and an hour is not long enough to get more REM sleep. We cannot all be as fortunate to be perky and uhh... coordinated in the morning as you are. I pray to god that we somehow kept you awake by watching Battlestar Galactica at some point (Edward James Olmos! NOOOOO!). You are so lucky I have a great station going on Pandora right now.

Grouchily yours,
Erin Explosion

Thoughts about GG Allin:

1) Can a good feminist still have a healthy appreciation of GG Allin (Merle Allin is fucking awesome and not part of this question at all).

2) Why does (did) GG Allin have (have) the smallest dick ever? No wonder sane chicks didn't want to fuck him.