I don't have the cute subtle kind either. I've got the barky embarrassing kind. It's been like this on and off for hours.
Earlier this week, I was considering marrying my MP3 player, and becoming Mrs. Jelly T-10. But like so many euphoric starts, my new love has gone sour. After loading almost 3 hours of music to the stupid PC Bang's computer, it refused to sync to my MP3 boyfriend. It was an exercise in frustration. All for naught.
Mister "I-Work-Here" was unhelpful with his shrugging of the shoulders and throwing up of the arms. Mister "I-Snore-Loudly" in the cubicle two spots over, and his buddy, "I-Snore-Louder" beside him, didn't help with my frustration. They blocked my way to the overwhelmingly stankified squatty toilet. More on that another time (soon.)
After 3 and a half hours of not getting the silly PC to do anything I wanted it to do, I wished all PCs and all staff and patrons would die.*
I hope all I-River employees die too.*
* I don't really. I just want tunes on my expensive toy. I feel like a circus show poodle, jumping through hoops, and my fur keeps catching on fire on account of the flames.
Fricken dog shows. (Up yours I-river.)
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