I'm sitting at work with nothing to do, so why not write? It turns out that yet again I am the only one at the office. That doesnt really bother me though since I would rather work alone most of the time anyway. At least I'm clean now. Lukas and I have opted to ignore the sign that says 'do not use' and taken showers in our new, but suprisingly exactly the same, shower. Apparantly when the maintenance guy said he was going to 'replace your shower and put in a new one', what he really meant was 'I am going to knock a huge hole in your wall then patch it up with a spare piece of drywall.' It was getting to be too much though. I tried to take a nap yesterday but I smelled so badly that it woke me up. That's hot.

So I am on the final boss of Ratchet and Clank… which should be fun I assume. I expect the designers even made the game with the intention of fun being had. For some reason that just isnt the case with me. Admitedly I'm not the best at video games, but I would definitely consider myself above average and somewhere between 'good' and 'really good' at gaming in general. As it is, fighting the last guy in Ratchet just makes me feel pathetic. The battle is really long and if at any point you die, back to the beginning you go. 10 minutes later you get back to the point where you died, only to die again. Rinse and repeat. I'm pretty diligent about this sort of thing so I tried and died a half dozen times or so before shutting everything off in frustration. After every death you have to restock on weapons (which you also have to do, joyfully enough, mid battle as well). This is where those damn bolts I've been collecting all game come into play. Each life and death easily costs me around 2 thousand bolts worth of ammo. At first this was but a small price to pay, but if my failures keep mounting I am going to be forced to start whoring myself out for bolts. When that happens, I will likely just surrender to the game altogether. While at first I was eager to collect bolts by the hundreds, lately my bolt collection has become lazy and uninspired. Combined with my expensive apetite for devestator ammo and visibombs my fall from glory is rapidly nearing its conclusion. Forget the 150,000 bolts i need to buy the RYNO, pretty soon I will be forced to run around like a little bitch breaking crates with the hope that inside I might find a few spare bolts. I imagine this is how crack whores feel.

Speaking of being a bitch, I have to do some work. Useless, time-wasting work given to me for no reason other than to make my manager feel like he is actually doing a worthwhile job. So frustrating.