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mousmeNazis are great villains. I've said it before and I'll say it again.
This time around we created a diversion in order to search a Nazi Colonel's room, which involved Jack Holliday, pilot and chaos engine extraordinaire (played with great gusto by JB), running a Citroën 2CV into their black Mercedes and totalling it. He then tossed his zippo lighter into the spilt gasoline with predictable results, and spent the next three rounds looking like the innocent victim of a car wreck being unfairly assaulted by an irate German soldier.
FP and I, the masterminds behind this whole scheme, ended up forcing our way into the Nazi's hotel room, sent one of the baddies flying through a window and conked the other one unconscious after a brief struggle.
Another high point of my evening was bribing a bellhop for his passkey, and when RC insisted I could only have it for half an hour, I coolly informed him that I went to get two copies made, thus making him twitch and turn an interesting shade of red. Heh heh heh. Our search of the room revealed nothing, but I still have the passkeys, so I can always go back. Go me!
My first Cognitive Therapy appointment went well too. It was an evaluation meeting, and they apparently decided I was a good candidate, so I'm on the waiting list for July or August. Dr. What's–her–name (something complicated that began with S) asked a whole bunch of questions, then at the end asked if I "felt understood," which was a really stupid question, IMHO. I told her so, though not in so many words.
Also objected to her calling what I do "slashing." Yeesh, she makes me sound like Freddy Crougar or something. "Slashing" my pretty ass. Oh well. She took my objection in stride, and compromised by calling it "cutting" instead. Whatever. You'd think a professional would know enough by now to call it self–injury or self–harm. Bleh.
Still, I'm optimistic about this. I think it'll work out well, if only because I really want it to work.
Had a long talk with 'Mu about depression and Paxil and various side effects, namely that it seriously decreases not only your sex drive but also inhibits your ability to form romantic attachments, which does seem to make sense to me. It might explain why I'm less enthused about the whole intimacy issue than Poms seems to be, or at least may partly be contributing to it, all other hangups aside.
My grandfather is being buried on Saturday, so I have to figure out a way to swap out of work with someone. Apparently there was a mix–up at the retirement home, who told my father they would remove the body around noon. When the family went to collect his belongings, however, he was not only still there, but in a plastic body bag. Luckily my father was able to shut the door again before anyone else saw, but he came home extremely shaken and upset, and I can't say I blame him. This whole thing is a bloody mess.
This time around we created a diversion in order to search a Nazi Colonel's room, which involved Jack Holliday, pilot and chaos engine extraordinaire (played with great gusto by JB), running a Citroën 2CV into their black Mercedes and totalling it. He then tossed his zippo lighter into the spilt gasoline with predictable results, and spent the next three rounds looking like the innocent victim of a car wreck being unfairly assaulted by an irate German soldier.
FP and I, the masterminds behind this whole scheme, ended up forcing our way into the Nazi's hotel room, sent one of the baddies flying through a window and conked the other one unconscious after a brief struggle.
Another high point of my evening was bribing a bellhop for his passkey, and when RC insisted I could only have it for half an hour, I coolly informed him that I went to get two copies made, thus making him twitch and turn an interesting shade of red. Heh heh heh. Our search of the room revealed nothing, but I still have the passkeys, so I can always go back. Go me!
My first Cognitive Therapy appointment went well too. It was an evaluation meeting, and they apparently decided I was a good candidate, so I'm on the waiting list for July or August. Dr. What's–her–name (something complicated that began with S) asked a whole bunch of questions, then at the end asked if I "felt understood," which was a really stupid question, IMHO. I told her so, though not in so many words.
Also objected to her calling what I do "slashing." Yeesh, she makes me sound like Freddy Crougar or something. "Slashing" my pretty ass. Oh well. She took my objection in stride, and compromised by calling it "cutting" instead. Whatever. You'd think a professional would know enough by now to call it self–injury or self–harm. Bleh.
Still, I'm optimistic about this. I think it'll work out well, if only because I really want it to work.
Had a long talk with 'Mu about depression and Paxil and various side effects, namely that it seriously decreases not only your sex drive but also inhibits your ability to form romantic attachments, which does seem to make sense to me. It might explain why I'm less enthused about the whole intimacy issue than Poms seems to be, or at least may partly be contributing to it, all other hangups aside.
My grandfather is being buried on Saturday, so I have to figure out a way to swap out of work with someone. Apparently there was a mix–up at the retirement home, who told my father they would remove the body around noon. When the family went to collect his belongings, however, he was not only still there, but in a plastic body bag. Luckily my father was able to shut the door again before anyone else saw, but he came home extremely shaken and upset, and I can't say I blame him. This whole thing is a bloody mess.
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Anti-depressants and libido...
Date: 2002-05-02 03:54 am (UTC)Speaking as the other half of a relationship where somebody has been on antidepressants from time to time, Mu speaks the truth; they can *seriously* croggle somebody's libido. This can *suck*. However, one is never permanently on them. And when you come off them, it bounces right back, which is massively fun.
Cognitive therapy...
Date: 2002-05-02 06:12 am (UTC)Was planning on reading it in evening, but Hubby yoinked foul stunt - gave me a computer game to cheer me up last night, and it's so totally addictive it's not even funny. Makes me remember why I wanted to work in the video game industry to start with, and why I toughed it out for three years at Ubi...
I don't think getting a day off for a funeral ought to be a problem at work - those are usually basic days off given to any employee. If your supp is a hardass, s/he might kvetch because you're still in training and not officially a full time employee, but I think Bell HR has more sense than that...