I am Jack's impotent rage.
Jan. 12th, 2006 08:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trinityofoneWhat I did today:
1. Woke up at around 3 a.m. after having a seriously traumatizing dream involving talking pigs at a slaughterhouse. Drifted; never really made it back to sleep.
2. Got up to go to class; discovered that light in bathroom, which had sort of spazzed at around 11 o'clock the night before, was completely dead, and thus could not shower, as my little box of a bathroom was now a pitch black box.
3. Went to lecture, which was something about Dryden that I didn't really pay attention to; someone had drawn a giant cock on the screen for the overhead projector, so I took that as a sign that I should spend the hour writing porn.
4. Went to report dead light; discovered that office had closed for lunch for TWO HOURS.
5. Went to pick up package; office also closed for lunch.
6. Went to do laundry; despite assurances on Tuesday that my clearance would be fixed, was still locked out of launderette.
7. Ate bad sandwich.
8. 2 p.m.: reported broken light. Was assured that it would be fixed straightaway.
9. Picked up package; only good event of day: a CERTAIN BOOK had arrived.
10. Tried to get into laundry room again; still locked out. Hung around for about twenty minutes until someone else came by and then snuck in.
11. 5:30-ish: returned to room after waiting around the launderette for upwards of two hours to discover that light was still not fixed. Reported it AGAIN.
12. 7:42 p.m.: knock on door announced arrival of maintenance guy. He immediately began reprimanding me for not having reported the problem earlier. I explained that I had. He said that this wasn't really his job and that he might not have the right parts, reprimanded me some more, then stormed out without fixing the light.
13. To prevent self from curling up in a ball and crying, wrote this post. May still do the former.
I hate bureaucracy. I hate the fact that our launderette has a stupid electronic key system that never works when an old fashioned metal key would work just fine. I hate that instead of just letting us buy lightbulbs occasionally, the housing office insists on these idiotic industrial bulbs that we have to get other people to change--if they feel like it. I hate feeling this exhausted having done essentially NOTHING today.
I don't know why I'm telling you all of this, except that perhaps I'm secretly hoping it'll be a good way to trick some of you into writing me porn. Or at least a story like this:
And then the revolution came, and indeed, the bureaucrats were the first up against the wall. They dragged the mean maintenance man with them, kicking and screaming all the way. Elsewhere, John and Rodney had sex. The end.
See? Isn't that moving?
Oh, and now I feel bad. So here's a real, non-self-indulgent reason for this post: I uploaded a new copy of the U2 .zip from my last post, so if anyone missed it the last time around, there ought to be a few more downloads left. And I'll try to respond to comments soon; right now I need...um. Well, I need a lightbulb in my bathroom, really. But I guess I'll settle for a bit of chocolate and a cup of tea.
1. Woke up at around 3 a.m. after having a seriously traumatizing dream involving talking pigs at a slaughterhouse. Drifted; never really made it back to sleep.
2. Got up to go to class; discovered that light in bathroom, which had sort of spazzed at around 11 o'clock the night before, was completely dead, and thus could not shower, as my little box of a bathroom was now a pitch black box.
3. Went to lecture, which was something about Dryden that I didn't really pay attention to; someone had drawn a giant cock on the screen for the overhead projector, so I took that as a sign that I should spend the hour writing porn.
4. Went to report dead light; discovered that office had closed for lunch for TWO HOURS.
5. Went to pick up package; office also closed for lunch.
6. Went to do laundry; despite assurances on Tuesday that my clearance would be fixed, was still locked out of launderette.
7. Ate bad sandwich.
8. 2 p.m.: reported broken light. Was assured that it would be fixed straightaway.
9. Picked up package; only good event of day: a CERTAIN BOOK had arrived.
10. Tried to get into laundry room again; still locked out. Hung around for about twenty minutes until someone else came by and then snuck in.
11. 5:30-ish: returned to room after waiting around the launderette for upwards of two hours to discover that light was still not fixed. Reported it AGAIN.
12. 7:42 p.m.: knock on door announced arrival of maintenance guy. He immediately began reprimanding me for not having reported the problem earlier. I explained that I had. He said that this wasn't really his job and that he might not have the right parts, reprimanded me some more, then stormed out without fixing the light.
13. To prevent self from curling up in a ball and crying, wrote this post. May still do the former.
I hate bureaucracy. I hate the fact that our launderette has a stupid electronic key system that never works when an old fashioned metal key would work just fine. I hate that instead of just letting us buy lightbulbs occasionally, the housing office insists on these idiotic industrial bulbs that we have to get other people to change--if they feel like it. I hate feeling this exhausted having done essentially NOTHING today.
I don't know why I'm telling you all of this, except that perhaps I'm secretly hoping it'll be a good way to trick some of you into writing me porn. Or at least a story like this:
And then the revolution came, and indeed, the bureaucrats were the first up against the wall. They dragged the mean maintenance man with them, kicking and screaming all the way. Elsewhere, John and Rodney had sex. The end.
See? Isn't that moving?
Oh, and now I feel bad. So here's a real, non-self-indulgent reason for this post: I uploaded a new copy of the U2 .zip from my last post, so if anyone missed it the last time around, there ought to be a few more downloads left. And I'll try to respond to comments soon; right now I need...um. Well, I need a lightbulb in my bathroom, really. But I guess I'll settle for a bit of chocolate and a cup of tea.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-12 11:15 pm (UTC)And there was a rather beautiful young man with long curly hair standing in front of her bathroom, more hair escaping from his tank top and curling out from beneath his terrycloth shorts.
"Miss One?" he asked, his lush lips curving sympathetically. "My name is Blair. I'm your bathboy for this evening."
She gasped in surprise and then offered shakily, "There's no light ..."
"Not to worry," he said soothingly. And indeed, warm flickers were escaping from the half-open door. "Your bubble-bath awaits. Soak for a little while, and I'll come do your back."
Trinity tottered over to the door to find a candelabrum on the toilet tank, her nightgown and robe hanging on the door, and a tub of vanilla-scented bubbles. She turned and looked at Blair, who said, "I can help you with your clothes, too?"
Stricken with shyness, she scampered into the bathroom and closed the door firmly before stripping. She cracked the door open and handed her clothes to Blair, who took them without comment.
Trinity eased her way into the bathtub and gasped at the heat. Finally she sat all the way down, and lay back on the perfectly-placed washcloth.
Her breathing smoothed out, and she watched the flickers of the candle flames ... the shadows on the wall ... the inside of her eyelids. Her anger-spasms began to relax.
After a bit there came a brief knock at the door, and Blair let himself in, a steaming cup of mint tea in his hand. He crouched down by the tub.
"Here you go. Sip that right down." The tea pooled warm in her belly, and the bubbles popped and fizzed on her skin.
"Ready to have your back done?" She leaned forward in response, closing her eyes, and felt the warm soapy cloth moving over her back, all the way up to her hairline, down firmly around the shoulderbladesthat always itched, and firmly down her spine. The splash of the cloth being rinsed, and then the trickle of warm water sliding over her skin. She hitched forward a little more, inviting, and the cloth was re-soaped and gently, gently, her ass was washed. How kinky and wonderful to have someone else do it!
Soon she was aware of the water being let out. Blair helped her rise, steadying her when she staggered just a bit, and began to towel her dry. He checked her breath of protest with a little grin, and then helped her into her nightgown and robe. She heard him blowing out the candles as she opened the door, the acrid scent of burnt wick curling past her.
The crowd of people in her living room paused when she came out, and it took a moment for her to sort out what she was seeing. That was the guy from housing who'd sworn her access card had been fixed, holding a basket of folded laundry. That one was the first person to whom she'd reported the blown light, holding a ladder; and the second, holding a toolbox. The handyman himself was standing there with a black eye and a replacement light, not looking at her. And a complete stranger, tall with short brown hair and a soldier-of-fortune light in his eye as he kept track of the others, his arms lightly folded across his chest, the black tee-shirt he wore banded by the leather holster across his muscular shoulders. His gaze fell on her and he relaxed into a bright smile.
"Miss One! I believe we have these little problems all sorted out, don't we, folks?" The man crossed to her, her access card in his hand. "I tested this personally an hour and a half ago."
Most of the crew had disappeared into the bathroom as he spoke, and Blair reappeared from her kitchen.
"Jim, man, you got one of those patented back-rubs for the lady?"
A click sounded from her bathroom and light poured around the door. The other people hastily left, and she was standing in her living room with a fixed bulb, a working access card, a pile of clean clothes, and two very beautiful men.
Trinity smiled.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-12 11:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-13 05:37 pm (UTC)I want a bathboy! Actually, I just want a bath. But, oh. You've made me believe in a better world. Thank you.
*grins* *fantasizes*