"What ever happened to Fay Wray?
That delicate satin-draped frame?
As it clung to her thigh,
How I started to cry,
Cause I wanted to be dressed just the same"

Dr. Frank N Furter, Rocky Horror Picture Show

Well, she was 96, and frankly, I thought that she'd been dead for decades. But, no.

I'm sorry, I'm just too dispirited to tell you stories of workplace stupidity, or kitchen follies.

The air conditioner, which had been broken for all of June, has just broken again, and the "service" people won't fix it and the "service" desk at Circuit City doesn't want to hear about the lack of service by their contractors.

Don't start me about the concept of service in the service industry. As I said to them last time, "If your contracted HAD actually fixed it, I wouldn't be screaming at you right now, now would I?" Or, on being told that I had called after working hours, "Well, you're working, are you not? You are not a service or an answering machine. And I'm sitting at my desk, talking to you. So both of us are, in fact, at work. How is this not working hours?(BIATCH!!)"

Bite me. Time for lolling in the pool with a tall one.