Apparently I am not worthy of working for the "World's Local Bank" any more. It does not suffice that I am leaving in August...oh no... The power must be snatched. To be honest, I loathe the job. Truly loathe it. Despite my ever growing hatred for one of the few banks not to go dick up in the current economic downfall, it does pay for my wheels and for my social sanity. It also pays for the confidence lapses, which seem to occur so frequently these days. I'm spending more and more on clothes to make me feel better. Typical female, I guess but extra hormones make us extra sensitive. I'll be damned if I'm deprived of something pretty to make me feel better about myself. College, now finished, sees my own governmental-certified brand of heroin, go pretty much down the lavvy. SAAS provided me with such a lifeline. No SAAS and no wage after July, sees my 'merry-making, fun-loving, holiday-filled summer days' numbered. How many can there be with rent, a car, a laptop and unexplainably expensive Poulenc Sonatas to pay for? My guess is four. Four fun-filled, sensationally wonderful days in Ireland's capital. That's all I want from this summer.
If you so wish to donate to the downfall of Paula fund, all monies, cheques and cuddles can be made payable to my address. After all, we are a giving world. So giving, in fact, that we gave millions of people copious amounts of money that we simply did not have... So much money, that even the most thriving of banks have to make job cuts.
What prats.
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