creamygoodness

I blame Pearlbass.

And for once, it isn't just because I feel like blaming someone for something so I can extract the urine. It wasa t her urging that I started watching Black Books and hence it's her fault that I seem to find myself slowly morphing into Bernard Black.

I think my subconcious must really hate my job or something. Sure, everyone moans about my job, but I used to actually quite be quite the conscientious and pleasant librarian, but just recently I've been... uhhh.... slipping a little. In the past couple of weeks I have:

-Been advised that maybe singing Stephen Lynch songs while working on the front counter probably isn't a good idea (in my defence, I was singing the one about how frustrating it is to get cock-blocked by some girl's ugly fat friend as opposed to the one where he debates how to involuntarily abort his grilfriend's baby-to-be by kicking her down the stairs).

-Been told that a shirt with a red Soviet Star on the sleeve and a big Spetznaz logo on the back probably isn't suitable attire for library staff. It's a shame the Castro-loving commie guy isn't running the library service anymore, I'd probably have gotten a promotion on the spot.

-Called a colleague in her 60's a 'skank-ass ho' (she deserved it. Well.... ok... maybe not, but it was funny as fuck at the time....)

-Gotten into trouble for telling a bunch of students to 'Shut up or get out'.