(no subject)
Jun. 24th, 2005 01:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jianantonicWell.
I hate the Harry Potter 3 movie. It doesn't make any sense! Well, it does because I read the book but the fact that I have read the book is what makes me loathe the film. I did enjoy watching the film for what was included, but all that was left out was too much. They didn't even show him winning the Quidditch Cup! And the whole thing with the Firebolt was so wrong and don't even get me started on Sirius. Why would he look so crazy and angry in the photographs? That doesn't make any sense! Argh. JK Rowling must be getting a truckload of galleons for letting them butcher her masterpieces like this.
Another reason I'm in such a foul mood is that my foot is worse today. I can't walk anymore and it's much more tender. I'm going to have to go to a doctor. I doubt one can fit me in today (and I don't feel much like pulling myself together for a trip out of the house), so I'll go on Monday. Sigh. Goodbye, sweet bank account. It's been nice knowing you.
That's another thing...I am SO SICK of people telling me to go to a doctor. It's one thing for my husband or parents to suggest it, but when people at work just offer up their opinions and continually badger me about it, I want to tell them to stuff it. I shouldn't have to make excuses, and it's none of their fucking business that I don't have health insurance and can't afford it. They know what I make - we all make the same thing. The only difference is I'm paying all my own bills instead of letting my parents cover it. I'm tired of this:
Coworker: Still on crutches, huh?
Me: Yeah, but I'm doing better.
Coworker: Have you seen a doctor yet?
Me: No, I'm not planning on it.
Coworker: You really should. It's been three weeks.
Me: I'm really doing better. (It's the truth, I am. I'm just not perfect yet.)
Coworker: Tsk, tsk.
Like it's THEIR problem or something. I don't ask them for shit. And few of them have even offered to help me when they see me struggling around chairs and trying to carry a glass of water back to my desk all the while on crutches. It's like, if you want this to be your business, you can fucking help me. If you're going to pretend like you don't know I'm injured when I need help, don't ask me about the injury to fulfill your curiosity. UGH.
Also, Jer's working a double so he's gone all day and I'm bored and grumpy.
Peace.
I hate the Harry Potter 3 movie. It doesn't make any sense! Well, it does because I read the book but the fact that I have read the book is what makes me loathe the film. I did enjoy watching the film for what was included, but all that was left out was too much. They didn't even show him winning the Quidditch Cup! And the whole thing with the Firebolt was so wrong and don't even get me started on Sirius. Why would he look so crazy and angry in the photographs? That doesn't make any sense! Argh. JK Rowling must be getting a truckload of galleons for letting them butcher her masterpieces like this.
Another reason I'm in such a foul mood is that my foot is worse today. I can't walk anymore and it's much more tender. I'm going to have to go to a doctor. I doubt one can fit me in today (and I don't feel much like pulling myself together for a trip out of the house), so I'll go on Monday. Sigh. Goodbye, sweet bank account. It's been nice knowing you.
That's another thing...I am SO SICK of people telling me to go to a doctor. It's one thing for my husband or parents to suggest it, but when people at work just offer up their opinions and continually badger me about it, I want to tell them to stuff it. I shouldn't have to make excuses, and it's none of their fucking business that I don't have health insurance and can't afford it. They know what I make - we all make the same thing. The only difference is I'm paying all my own bills instead of letting my parents cover it. I'm tired of this:
Coworker: Still on crutches, huh?
Me: Yeah, but I'm doing better.
Coworker: Have you seen a doctor yet?
Me: No, I'm not planning on it.
Coworker: You really should. It's been three weeks.
Me: I'm really doing better. (It's the truth, I am. I'm just not perfect yet.)
Coworker: Tsk, tsk.
Like it's THEIR problem or something. I don't ask them for shit. And few of them have even offered to help me when they see me struggling around chairs and trying to carry a glass of water back to my desk all the while on crutches. It's like, if you want this to be your business, you can fucking help me. If you're going to pretend like you don't know I'm injured when I need help, don't ask me about the injury to fulfill your curiosity. UGH.
Also, Jer's working a double so he's gone all day and I'm bored and grumpy.
Peace.
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no subject
Date: 2005-06-26 05:20 pm (UTC)