Well, now I've stuck my foot in it.
After I wrote yesterday's entry, I IM'ed Katie. When I didn't get a response, I signed off for about half an hour. When I signed back on again, I got the response "Kitten?" (My pet name for her). So, I figured that something had happened and I somehow wasn't talking to her. I asked who I was talking to....the response? "Heheheh....tell me who you are first." My first inclination was to tell them to fuck off and die, since they were the one who was fucking around with Katie's account. But I vaguely remembered Katie telling me that she'd installed a copy of AIM on Joe's (her new boyfriend) computer. So, I figured I was dealing with either Joe or whoever the fuck else was allowed to screw with his computer.
I was playfully threatening at first (after all, Joe is about as tall as Dirk, and Dirk's perfectly capable of breaking me in half, so I was taking no chances). While the arrogance of his response irritated me, I kept up the light tone until it became apparent I wasn't going to get an answer. When I repeated the original question (who am I talking to?), he replied that he'd already answered (which he hadn't), and then asked, "Ooo....bad mood tonight?". Tell me that doesn't look insulting as hell.
I'd gotten sick of this shit, so I was straightforward and told him that I had a short temper, and 12:36 am wasn't the best time to mess with me. You know what he said? He told me that he'd had too much caffiene and it was keeping him awake, so he could be more than abrasive when A) People were demanding to know who he was without identifying themselves, and B) they were too lazy to trace his ISP. Oh, fuck that shit.
I really wanted to kill him at this point, but I held my temper long enough to point out that A) I am on AOL, so I cannot very well trace his ISP, laziness or not (and I think it's fucking arrogant on his part to assume that everyone can) and B) he is on someone else's goddamn account, so it's not unheard-of for people who know Katie to assume they are talking to Katie, and ask who the fuck they're talking to when it becomes apparent it's someone else.
I didn't get a response to that, so I wasn't going to push it. Either my overwhelming logic had completely undermine whatever little testosterone BS he was going through, or he was firing off an angry e-mail to Katie. So I sent one of my own, detailing what had happened, and suggesting that our personalities were incompatible, so should be kept separate.
Turns out that it probably wasn't Joe, because Joe was sick in bed with a fever. So, it could have been anyone of his dorm-mates. That's lovely, really. Whoever it was claimed to be Joe, and could respond to french. She also said she hadn't been planning to bring us together. I'm not certain what to make of that. Either Joe was horribly unimpressed with me, or she's a good enough judge of personality to figure we'd clash. Either way, if it means that she starts spending less time with me, I'm gonna be pissed.
Not that it does me any good.
I just can't shake the feeling that everyone thinks I'm sub-par lately. Not good enough. Not doing enough. Goddammit. Why do I have an inferiority complex today? I've been seeing motivations and worst-case scenarios where none really existed all morning. I've been considering what I look like to someone who's doing marginally better than me and coming up disappointed. I hate this, I cannot see where it stems from.
This morning I woke up at 5:15 and chortled quietly to myself, because I didn't have to wake up that early, since I didn't have work. Two minutes later, I realized that I did, in fact, have work today, and would have to get up in less than fifteen minutes. I think that was the worst moment of my entire week.
Renee, a woman I work with, got me a shirt on her trip to Florida (who knew she'd even gone to Florida?). It's red, it's tacky, and it's a size XXL. I don't care how bloated I look some days, I am definitely not XXL material. I mean, the thing goes down to my knees! Hell, XL is too big for my comfort. I'll probably wear the shirt as a night shirt.
I need to get my bangs cut. They're seriously interfering with my vision.
And, unfortunately, Alex is back. Apparently, he lived through his trip to South America. I am immensely disappointed in the workings of justice.
Okay, that's enough for now, it's cold in this office and I'm cramping.