The drama continues to unfold. Those who seemed shoe-ins for supervisor madness have been ousted. Due in no small part to us. We feel mighty.

Tonight is War Council night. DEATH is vegetarian, so whenever we all go out to dinner, it's an experience just to find somewhere we can all enjoy. I'm all for House o' Meat, but alas, no.

I was busy today. Very busy. I think that was good. On the other hand, however, I have a headache. Nothing is ever perfect when you are contractor dirt.

Raises were issued. An additional 95 cents an hour.

Now I'm not going to scoff at more money. Especially not when you consider that I already make a darned good wage. But 95 cents? What's up with that? It's like leaving a nickel tip. Enough to show you didn't forget, but managing to make your rememberance a slap in the face.

Hell, I'm offended just on my base level of needing things to be in round, logical increments. I would've rathered 50 cents than 95.

The search continues for more supervisors to share the pain of being middle-level contractor dirt. With luck, I will gain more allies.

But the law of Corporate Decision Making is never in my favor.

Today WISDOM had a meeting scheduled with his new manager -- the one that I mentioned got the promotion in my first entry. He was essentially told that he needs to stop socializing while on company property. But in the same breath, he was told to HAVE FUN and BE HIMSELF.

Yeah.

Meanwhile, Plastic Bimbo has bronchitis. She normally has an unhealthy, perpetual cough, but now it's escalated to "If we were back in the Wild West, I could legally shoot you" levels.

On the upside, confirmed rumour through the grapevine is that we have a raise coming. I have to wonder on some level if this isn't thinly veiled hush money. Which I'll take, of course. Hushing is optional.