IPod Drama, Reasons I'm Old

I would like to extend a big middle finger to Itunes for not letting me steal things from my friends. Sigh.

See, if you purchase something from Itunes, you cannot then copy those files to, say, an external USB drive and then give that USB to your friend, to put on to her Itunes package. Nope--you have to buy it yourself.

Stupid laws.

This works just fine with regular mp3s, just ripped from cd.

I do not own the new Daft Punk. I thought I did--I could taste it! But I don't. Nor do I own Mad Season, the entire Tool discography, or Ministry of any kind.

Oh well. I suppose I will just have to be a law abiding citizen and shell out the cash like the rest of America.

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I have to write a letter telling an insurance company how my father's death has affected me. I really don't want to do this. I fear of sounding trite, angry or insane. (I do all three regularly.)

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I swear I have arthritis. Sciatica, bum knees and general pain as a whole I have had...but the creaking in my hands and feet is reminiscent of arthritis.

Just to remind you all--I'm almost 26. Too. Young.

Don't fall down a lot, kids, lest you wind up like me. (Who knew klutziness would come back to bite you in the ass? Or knees, feet, ankles and hips, like me?)

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The desire to quit my job is waxing. If it weren't for the four friends I have at work I would have done this some time ago. The incessant pain is not helping things much, nor is my sudden inability to not be filled with rage when people drink their water too fast for my liking. Or eat bread and want seconds. Or have special orders. Separate checks. Or want to eat in the restaurant at all, that sucks too.

Sigh.

Enough bitching.

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which means I have nothing to say.