Stress Relief

It's hard to get stressed when you're spouting Shakespearean insults at people. A conversation between myself and one of my bosses at work today:

Chanel: Dan, can you take this order?

Me: My love for thee can bear no better term than this: thou art a villain!

Chanel: What?

Me: The lips rot from thy face, thou lumpish fen-sucked hedge-pig!

Chanel: What have you been smoking?

Me: You scullian! You rampallion! You fustilarian! I'll tickle your catastrope!

Chanel: . . . .

Me: You starveling, you eel-skin, you dried neat's tongue, you bull's pizzle, you stock-fish! O! for breath to utter what is like thee! You tailor's yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile standing-tuck!

Chanel: Sue, can you take this order?

The Immortal Bard indeed.

Before the storm

I was fortunate enough to receive a tip that gas prices were going to jump less than an hour before the fact. Filling up for $2.72 a gallon never felt so good.

Now I'm hearing rumors that prices are going to go up before they go down again - maybe as high as $5.00 a gallon. If that happens, I'm not sure how I'm going to be able to afford my daily commute. I live 30 miles from my job, and can't afford to move closer.

I do, however, own a tent that can be set up in a few minutes, and a down-filled sleeping bag that'll keep me warm through whatever September can deal out. There's also a gas station across the parking lot from my workplace - one that charges 15 to 20 cents more per gallon than the already-insane local average. Add those two facts together, and I think you'll get a pretty good idea of how these prices can be protested.

Look out, Phillips. If I have to pay much more, I'm moving in.