I QUIT!

I fucking hate working at the Joe. I hate it. If they don't give me a good reason to stay tonight at this retarded training meeting, particularly in the way of a two dollar pay raise, I'm not going back. We're Olympia now, come on, Mr. Illitch, you can afford it. You fucking prick bastard. You and your company.

The happy ending: I get to escape to a Great Lake this weekend and don't have to work. Woot!

That idea alone makes all this fuss over not having any casual clothes whatsoever in my wardrobe seem almost silly to get worked up about. I must be crazy.