Oh, my *head*.

In outer space, we work with a number of other astronauts who provide services that enable our space station to run all tickity-boo. These 3rd party astronauts do everything from delivering us new space-coffee on a weekly basis to upgrading our warp core drives. We all work in a harmony largely created by paying our space invoices on time. It’s a gentle existence, and it works well for us.

Except.

Two of our astro-vendors who previously merged to form FONEZAR – they handled phone lines and our voice mail system, respectively – are now fighting. They don’t like each other. They refuse to work together. In the case of the voice mail lady, she refuses to work on any project she was previously associated with because of phone guy.

Excuse me?

I called her up for some help this morning, only to be told that she will not help me because she no longer works with phone guy. It’s not that she can’t help me – she just won’t. Doesn’t wanna. It’s not her problem anymore. Ask phone guy. It doesn’t matter that he is the phone guy and not the voice mail guy and truly does not know a single damn thing about the voice mail system; our contract came from him and therefore she doesn’t have to help us anymore because she doesn’t like him.

Who knew they let 4 year olds into space?

My head is going to explode at the idiocy of this entire situation. I don’t NEED this crap; I have a universe to save.

In other news, I am officially announcing my intention to graduate high school in 2007. Now that my Secret Shame is not much secret as it is public knowledge, it’s time to rectify the situation once and for all. Details to come, followed by a graduation party – in fact, the only reason I’m doing this at all is so I can have a party. Officially finishing high school after 15 years of lies and deception is as good a reason as any to get presents, right? Go go class of 2007! Whoooooop!

I need rich parents to buy me a convertible when I graduate. Isn’t that what usually happens?