The Return of the Grind. Well, my friends, another fall break has come and gone, and today I return to the drab days of scholastic living. I did have a good weekend, but even four days just isn't enough anymore... maybe for the simple reason that I worked all of them. Peterson is better now that I'm leaving... I still can't wait to be done there, though. Apparently I have been messing up the filing system... or at least confusing people by separating the filing into months, and so therefore causing the issue. No one made it clear to me that we filed according to accession number only, not separating them out by months. I guess I was wrong in assuming that in June, when we started the new way (by number rather than alphabetical by last name) and I was told to put all the June "yellows" (as they are called) in the bottom drawers and all the July "yellows" in the top one, that I wasn't supposed to separate the months out. And then Stephen had the audacity to say that even PAM (if you'll remember Pam, the alphabetically (and mentally) challenged girl who got the Target job when I didn't) "even Pam ," he says to me, "didn't have a problem with months." Implying that those people that have been getting it wrong (i.e. me) are even more retarded than Pam. That bastard. I called him on it too. I said "You know, Stephen, that when you say 'those people', you are referring to me, because I was messing it up, and then you actually have the nerve to compare me to Pam? It was you who was not clear about what we are supposed to do!" He laughed it off and said he was just joking. I almost walked out right then.

In other news, I completed the second portion of my $50.00 shaving study this morning. It was quite fun; although when people learn that I work at Cold Stone, they get a little giddy (and a little annoying). Thank God I "wasn't allowed to talk" as per the stipulations of the study. One guy asked me to sing after I was done, but I kind of pretended not to hear him and walked out the door.

Public Service Announcement: If you were here on Saturday night and witnessed the abduction of a bottle of Abercrombie cologne out of the medicine cabinet inside the bathroom, please notify me as soon as possible. Chad is missing his cologne. Chad is very angry. If you took it, Chad will find out where you live, hunt you down, and then pour the sweet-smelling, hypervolatile liquid all over your body, maniaclly chanting "So you wanted to smell pretty, huh?! You thought you could smell as pretty as me?!" before igniting your fragrant body with a blue-orange flame and cackling wickedly as you are reduced to a musky pile of odorifous (spelling?) ash. He does this sort of thing often. I live with him. It's scary. Bring back the cologne.

I caved and bought The Matrix Reloaded. I know they are going to release some special edition of it after all three movies come out because, well, it's Warner Brothers, and that's just what those bastards do. I couldn't help it, so I will cross that bridge when I get to it. I'm just glad I have a digital copy of Lawerence Fishburne giving the poorest performance of his career as he stands up in front of a large, soon to be half-naked and techno dancing crowd of future-people and shouts a lot of anti-machine trash talk like an angry ten year old. That is what I call "Hollywood magic."