My initial plan of less than an hour trip to the nearest mall to have my school documents photocopied had lasted nearly three hours. First off, fuck you Copy Trade. It seems that your employees do not even know the word 'work ethics.' The bulk of your employees' load does not equate with snobby attitude. I tried the two branches at the mall which gave the same aura of hospitality. I wouldn't be surprised if these female employees go infertile not from radiation but from the glares they're constantly receiving from customers.
Big thanks to National Bookstore for a queue-less and cordial reception at the photocopying section. Then I saw McEwan's Atonement for a hundred fifty bucks. I walked out of the bookstore shaking, trying to keep off my lust to buy the book. It led me to cool off at Booksale located a floor below and then shredded three hundred bucks for six books. Pure coincidence or boon? When I got at Booksale, I went to the usual bookshelf at the back holding stacks of paperbacks. I knelt down, removed a small pile of books and saw Ian McEwan's Atonement. Holy cow, indeed. I was shopping with several people in the bookshop until I had realized I was racing against another buyer. He was apparently there upsetting the arrangement of books, hunting for fart knows what. I saw his own pile; saw Updike, Darwin and the like and boosted my petering energy in case I lose another book I want by his grubby hands. His toddler son was left to his own since the wife was also busy digging books in another shelf. That led to the tyke pestering me to some extent until another kid thought I was the mother of the kid. I don't know if I should be flattered since the kid's pretty cute or I look like a thirty-something year old woman already.
My initial annoyance with Copy Trade didn't really dissipate despite the books I've unearthed at Booksale. It rather spiked to some unknown level when a teenage couple had decided that a bookstore is the perfect place to flirt and fucking woo each other senseless with the banal ruckus of teenage vacuity. The girl was trying her best to act all tough and pretty at the same time, while the guy's settling himself as a pure wuss with his half arsed questions. I wasn't that crazy to listen to the white noise but jeezy creezy, among the twenty something folks inside the bookstore, they were the only people who were kind enough to provide us of teenage hormonal inanity that we do not need. Teens these days are either dumb or dumb it's pathetic beyond redemption. And they just had to stand at the bookshelf I was also checking so imagine what I had to go through. Pure hell. If it wasn't for the goddamn photocopies it would not even take the second coming of Christ for me to leave the house. I'm in the middle of Kakfa's climax so you can see the dilemma.
Anyway, it's way out of line but while I was scouring for books, I kept thinking of Kamijou Hiroki of Junjou Romantica who, upon the usual flying off the handle scene, would drop by the second hand bookstore and shop until he dropped. I just love Junjou Romantica (+ Egoist and Terrorist). I also ruined my freshly done manicure. It was perfect done by yours truly until I tossed the idea of being careful out the window when I was busy at Booksale. I find myself not upset by it actually. Cool.
On another note in my life, I'm having a workshop tomorrow at this company which I took an exam last month. I obviously passed the test; that I was confident of although I'm not happy with the company's strict rules and regulation. I'm for an interview on Tuesday at SSS though honestly, I'm not totally into them. I'm just playing by my family's constant nag of still being a total moocher. I can't help it. I'm enjoying the life of a nocturnal. I have the time to read my books and do whatever online. I'm also past the thin red line of my muse's death so I don't really think it would be an advantage to have a job right now. Unless my bank account's going to speak on my behalf then that's another issue.
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