I was supposed to call Sammie, but I just went online to try to find a needle for my record player. I’m really depressed. IT IS SO FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE TO FIND A NEEDLE FOR THIS THING WITHOUT THE ORIGINAL. It is so cruel. It’s like, right here. And it works, and I just can’t find the fucking cartridge/needle for it. IT IS SO EXASPERATING. Well anyway, I’m getting more and more pissed off about the whole fucking insurance bullshit. I’m just in a bad mood. I was supposed to call Samantha and ask her to tell Joe that if he doesn’t return the mouse by Tuesday that Molly is going to Throgmorton and is going to tell him everything and then take all the keys back. Leave it to that stupid, ugly ignoramus to ruin it for everyone. What a childish, libertine imbecile. Petty things like this irritate me more than anything.

I am so irritable. I want to walk over to the television, pick it up, and bash my father’s head in with it. CAN’T HE NOT FUCKING WATCH THAT FUCKING TELEVISION FOR ONE FUCKING NIGHT? I’m going to kill him. Today, he came home and I had turned up the thermostat to 72 degrees (it was 68 degrees in the house) and he’s all “why do you have the heat on” and I’m all “because it’s cold” and he’s all “It stays on sixty-eight degrees.” And I’m all “It’s sixty-eight degrees in a morgue.” ROOM TEMPERATURE IS SEVENTY-TWO FUCKING DEGREES YOU CHEAP PIECE OF SHIT. I am infuriated that I work all the time but don’t get enough money to buy even the most basic things. I can’t see what’s wrong with my car, I can’t get a record player, I can’t get a computer. Why do I even fucking work there? I have no education and I make three dollars an hour less than the reporters. So four years of college is worth three dollars to Mike? I think that is very sad. I’m looking dumbfounded at charts like this:

http://www.everythingradio.com/needle_chart_3.htm

And I have no clue what it should look like. I think in a way it would be comforting to have all the keys be taken back. It would be losing a privelege, but now that I have my car it isn’t as world-shattering as when I’d get there at 6 a.m., freezing and alone. I think that it would be the last nail in the Drift’s coffin. I kind of feel like Molly, we have done all we can do with the Drift, I’m kind of bored with it. I think that we should seek out staff for the next semester, as InDesign, the new camera, and other things will breathe new life into the club, but if there aren’t any interested people, it should die.

Amanda seems really interested in my computer, but I hesitate to tell her that it will be at least another month until I get it working. I mean to take out $50 this month to use next month for my RAM. But it probably won’t happen. I was also supposed to call Sammie and ask her if she and Steve wanted to go to the river tomorrow. But I’m not in the mood to talk to people right now. I’m very bitter. I’ve been burning DVDs all day. I was happier earlier in the day, had a bit of a nostalgic phone conversation with my mom. It’s weird, it’s been a year since I last saw her. I’m using the Napalm FTP Indexer to download “Rock Your Body” by Justin Timberlake. He’s so gloriously delicious. Wow, I’m getting 2KBPS. Strange. Oh, it’s dropping. Every second it goes 1.98, 1.97, 1.96. Damn it. Hm, it’s stabilizing at 1.80, around there. My dad, Lisa, and I went up to Brookings today, but it was sadly analagous to Steve’s mom taking him to Eureka. We had to put up with my dad trying on clothes. Boring. We went to some Tack and Western Wear store. It was kind of cute, I found this black cowboy shirt that was so cute. I wanted to take it home. But not now, because I’m in a bad mood.

Then we dined at Rancho Viejo. It was nummy. I had Tacos al Carbon. They were really nummy. I want to go to the river tomorrow. I need to call Tawna, but I can’t interrupt this download, it’s halfway done. I’m going to finish burning her movie. I’ve had her movies for like a week. I need to remember to ask Sammie for Pi back. God damn I’m lazy. Oh well. It’s the Lethargy Club. They’ll understand. I feel so impotent about the whole record player situation. There’s no manual, no cartridge, no needle…no way to figure out what kind. Oh great, it just gave me the “there is not enough memory to run this program” error, I’d better post this before my computer crashes. Wow, I just saw some lightning. Lightning makes me think of Royce, which makes me think of sex. Charley signed off a while ago, so there’s no hope of that now. The concept of sex with Charley revolts me, but when we’re both desperate I guess it’s better than nothing. *shudders*

Whoa, lightning again. Must post this before I get electrocuted and die.