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Soyeah.
I'm working at Target these days. Yeah, it sucks. I have fully entered the disillusioned worker stage. If you have it, go watch "Mannys First Day" (The second episode of Black Books). Fran's expression just prior to her saying "I haven't slept with you...and you're NOT trying to freak me out..." is exactly how I feel.
Day camp is not bad, besides the fact that I have a unit full of additude. Luckily, the two prep girls who I thought I would not at all get along with are not that bad --one of them was attempting to teach me ghetto slang (I am apparently never to use the phrase "gettin' busy" --she didn't exactly explain why) and the two of them can pretty much just entertain each other.
The complete demon child, who has been trying to outstubborn me by completely ignoring everything I say and not talking to me has gotten better. Plus, whatever. So she's not talking to me --that makes my job easier.
And then we had thunder, and got herded into Peterson. Fine, whatever. Songs could amuse the girls, the girls could amuse myself, and Veronica is an adapt at taking charge of large groups of people. I myself decided to be an adapt at herding girls through the bathroom, and while I was holed up in there, all the Quartermaster girls (The cool kids at camp) and Blue Canary, dissapeared.
Fine. Whatever.
And then, Blue FINALLY came back, babbling something about PickPocket hurting her arm. Whatever, drama.
And I popped in on PickPocket, and she seemed hurt but being taken care of, and I popped back out and Blue grabbed me and hugged me and started crying on my shoulder and just generally needing to be held.
Blue...doesn't cry on shoulders. She's damnably closed off, unfortunately. As Kawa and Wolf wandered through and joined our "ohshitohshit sobfest" in the corner, I began to get the whole Something Is Wrong vibe.
The worst part of people you care about being hurt is being helpless to fix them. God, that sucks.
So, long story short (Too late!) Pickpocket got dragged off in an Ambulance. She's fine, and will return to camp safe, sound, and with a cast on her arm tomorrow.
Soyeah. That's my life. Poke me if you need an explanation of any of the campy terms.
Love and such
~Kat
I'm working at Target these days. Yeah, it sucks. I have fully entered the disillusioned worker stage. If you have it, go watch "Mannys First Day" (The second episode of Black Books). Fran's expression just prior to her saying "I haven't slept with you...and you're NOT trying to freak me out..." is exactly how I feel.
Day camp is not bad, besides the fact that I have a unit full of additude. Luckily, the two prep girls who I thought I would not at all get along with are not that bad --one of them was attempting to teach me ghetto slang (I am apparently never to use the phrase "gettin' busy" --she didn't exactly explain why) and the two of them can pretty much just entertain each other.
The complete demon child, who has been trying to outstubborn me by completely ignoring everything I say and not talking to me has gotten better. Plus, whatever. So she's not talking to me --that makes my job easier.
And then we had thunder, and got herded into Peterson. Fine, whatever. Songs could amuse the girls, the girls could amuse myself, and Veronica is an adapt at taking charge of large groups of people. I myself decided to be an adapt at herding girls through the bathroom, and while I was holed up in there, all the Quartermaster girls (The cool kids at camp) and Blue Canary, dissapeared.
Fine. Whatever.
And then, Blue FINALLY came back, babbling something about PickPocket hurting her arm. Whatever, drama.
And I popped in on PickPocket, and she seemed hurt but being taken care of, and I popped back out and Blue grabbed me and hugged me and started crying on my shoulder and just generally needing to be held.
Blue...doesn't cry on shoulders. She's damnably closed off, unfortunately. As Kawa and Wolf wandered through and joined our "ohshitohshit sobfest" in the corner, I began to get the whole Something Is Wrong vibe.
The worst part of people you care about being hurt is being helpless to fix them. God, that sucks.
So, long story short (Too late!) Pickpocket got dragged off in an Ambulance. She's fine, and will return to camp safe, sound, and with a cast on her arm tomorrow.
Soyeah. That's my life. Poke me if you need an explanation of any of the campy terms.
Love and such
~Kat
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As for what happened...damn flocked journals, here's some liberally stolen quoteness:
"The EMTs were...amusing, I must say. Not even they could figure out what the hell was wrong. It took one pediatric doctor, two nurses, three x-rays,. and four hours in the Pediatric Unit as Howard County General to figure out that I had torn a ligament or two in my wrist, and the funny colored bump was actually a contusion cause by the damaged flesh.
Not a bug bite, as everyone thought it was.
So now I'm in a half cast that runs from my knuckles to three inches above my wrist, forcing me to do everything at an odd angle due to the way Doctor Watt wanted my wrist to be. Typing is currently a bitch."
Yep. Since I'm no good at explaining these things.
~Sor
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It was a bit like the girl I heard using 'bugger' as a swear. I just kinda looked at her and said "Do you know what that means? Because you should *probably* stop using it."
On a similar note, it's really entertaining to call my brother a wanker, because he has absolutely no idea what it means, and can't be bothered to figure it out, so it just annoys him.
~Sor