To prove just how insane I can actually be, today I finished reading Les Cadeaux from the beginning. All. Three. Years. Of. It.
More to the point, I have done that with all the blogs in the link list. It just dawned on me that that is sick. I mean, who the hell does that? Who reads three or four years of a blog? It strikes me as being somewhat strange and creepy.
Stranger and creepier? I check them daily and feel disappointed if there's nothing new. How fucked is that? I feel like some slimy cyber stalker or something. Hello Jazz, those people actually have lives. *shudders*
But I'm not a stalker, really I'm not. I'm actually quite a nice person, ya know? I just like to keep up with "the people who live in my computer" to quote the immortal Wee . Now if only I can get people to believe me.
We went to visit a soap company. Or maybe my sister was doing that and I tagged along - digressiona gain. This company made MIR dish soap (cheap crap it was, still is for all I know). Anyway, to this day the image of the assembly line sticks in my head. The woman who was the last in line. Her job was to check that the labels were stuck on right. That's right folks. She checked each bottle off the assembly line to see that the label was stuck. Eight hours a day, five days a week. Year in, year out - though I don't suppose you can do that job for very many years without going quietly, or not so quietly, insane.
So yeah, I've got it good. But I still think working for a living is highly overrated. And I should be allowed not to. So there!
And how is this for bizarre? I have got my big brother blogging, who'd've ever thunk it? Wanna take bets on how long he'll last?