Thistle (thistle_chaser) wrote,

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Resist, resist, resist! (And other assorted news)

Today here at work we have some Costco people here to sell memberships. (For those not in the know, Costco is a "warehouse club" type place. Buy food in bulk and such, supposedly cheaper that way.) Normal membership at the store or online is $45. If you get membership today (still $45), you get a $10 money card (or whatever they're called, worth $10 towards whatever purchase). While I've never seriously thought about getting a membership, it's oddly hard to resist it now. I don't *like* shopping. I especially don't like shopping when there are lots of people around. (Last time I had a membership there (well, my family's), it was like a herd of cattle (with small, crying kids) wandering around the aisles.) Heck, even thinking about shopping there in the past is making me twitch now. So yes, I don't want to go shopping there... but getting a membership is still tempting. Why? Well, for the same reason they have memberships and are often so crowded, I suspect: Because you can't get in without one. Part of me is going 'Ooooo! Oooo! Not everyone can go shop there, so *I* want to! Because lots of people can't! So that makes it special!'.

So, yeah. Resist, resist, resist. I don't even want it, but I'm resisting anyway.

In other news, my cat was fine at lunchtime. She was sitting at the door and waiting for me, as usual. (She's the most dog-like cat I've ever met.) She acted normally, so I'm happy.

And finally, in lighter news (that's punny! You'll see!), my damned desk-neighbor is still passing gas very loudly. It's gross and I want to beat him with something. I finally complained to my boss, and she forwarded my letter to HR. Hopefully I'll get my desk moved... and if nothing else, at least a lot of people are laughing at this guy behind his back now. (It's too bad I take such glee in that, as I used to like the guy... back before I had to sit next to him and knew about his personal problems.)

He comes in at 8:30 in the morning, and starts farting then. (I hate the word 'farting', but 'passing gas' doesn't convey just how gross it is to have to hear that noise (usually long, wet ones) for eight or nine hours straight.) My mother suggested I leave a bottle of Beano on his desk. I'd rather beat him with something.

He's done it five times in the time it has taken me to make this post. YUCK!

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