Goodbye, y'all.

Today is just about the busiest day ever. I have about ten things I need to have done before noon. Then I have training for the rest of the afternoon, topped off with a conference. Oddly enough I'm thankful for all the distractions ( Read more... )

To top this lovely cake of a day, my mother called to apply a liberal helping of icing. I should have known something was wrong, because she never calls me. I call her. (This is only because I have unlimited National minutes, and her long distance plan is really crappy.) She called me, completely drunk and out of her mind. She spouted off about ( Read more... )

"Everybody in this house needs to calm down and eat some fruit or something ( Read more... )

This day just keeps getting better and better. I got really sick earlier, for whatever reason, and saw my breakfast in reverse. They were out of soup downstairs for lunch, and then the vending machine ate my money when I tried to buy a little mini soup. Now I have a mountain of reports to complete, emails to send out, and calls to make. Only four ( Read more... )

I had this big entry in me about a bunch of stuff, but now I don't want to even deal with it anymore. I'm so sick of this crap. What do you want from me? A confession in blood? As if I don't feel guilty enough about how I acted already, you just have to drive the point home don't you ( Read more... )

"It's screwed up that Closer will always be our movie." --Chris ( Read more... )

I wonder who invented the blow job. Yes, these are the kind of weird thoughts I have floating around in my head. Seriously, though, did the caveman? Was a caveman sitting around one day, after a long day of dinosaur hunting, thinking about how he wanted some from his cavewoman, but he was too tired to put out? Or was it one of Gallileo's lesser ( Read more... )

I just lost most of an entry. Dammit. Today is one of those annoying days where it's slow, but it's not really. I have a meeting and a training session that I can't get out of. It's in a department I don't like and I didn't even sign up for. (Ew. I just ended two sentences in a row with a preposition. I disgust myself.) The training is for a ( Read more... )

What is with me? It's like I can't allow myself to be happy. Or rather, I am happy, and the idea of that freaks me out. I'll slip up, get comfortable, and enjoy the moment, and as soon as I realize it, I get scared. What if I get too comfortable and I get hurt? What if I am coming on too strong and being too happy, thus I potentially seeming too ( Read more... )