So apparently, Thursday is date night at The Dubliner. So there are no ruffians or ne'er-do-wells with whom we may consort, however innocently, or not guiltily, whatever the case may be. Stef is here with me, and we abandoned our ginormous table that we never sit at for the bar, which we always sit at, and we feel much better. Except now I'm writing and Stef is bored. Writing is a solo process. It blows that we can't write at the same time. They make sex toys with remote controls for two, but still, I blog alone. I'm sure Stef appreciates that. (Official disclaimer: we are just friends, and not in a Perez Hilton way.)
I am a mathematical genius. Took the algebra final and despite not knowing an effing thing about logarithms, I still got an 87.something, so I hit my 64 quota and have my A overall. Please hold your applause. Hey, cook me a steak. I'm all stream of consciousness right now. You would be too after 4 or 5 beers and a bunch of blinking Christmas lights. Oh my gah, Stef just outed me blogging to strangers. I blushed. I can look at vibrators for two hours today, but two dudes see me typing at a bar and I blush. My brain is so miswired. Ok, now I can't think. I better buy some shots or something. Self-consciousness ruins everything. Self-awareness is heretofore banned.
Ok. Who wants a Tuaca shot?
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Shitty Weather.
I don't like winter. I like the clothes though. But winter itself I can do without. These gray days make me want to stay home and eat potatoes. Summer makes me want to stay home and eat lettuce, so there's the yang to the yin right there. I've got a winter birthday, so that's good. I hardly have to share with other people on my birthday because 95% of the American population was born in September. Rock on, Aquarius.
I just paid a bunch of bills. I had money to burn for 10 minutes and now I'm poor again. I hate that. I had to harass a freelance client for a check after that. Bitch better have my money. I'm starting to get all cranky and moany. I was going to go look for vintage ties today. I suppose I still could, but what if I find some? I can't buy them. And that is worse than not looking at all. The only thing I can legitimately purchase is a #882E scantron. I got a quarter in my purse for that. I'm hoping hot chocolate when I get home will at least partially lift my crap mood. I think if I deliberately stand outside until my fingers turn blue, I'll appreciate the cocoa even more and I won't feel sorry for myself anymore. At least I have cocoa. There are people who are much worse off. Poor cocoa-less waifs.
My hair looks good today, so I've got that going for me, which is nice. Dinner is already cooking in my crock pot, so I'm going to have something delicious waiting for me in addition to hot chocolate. I will also have garlic bread later. Nothing is better than garlic bread. I stand by that statement. I ate the ice cream, but I do have the extra creamy and delicious strawberry yogurt in reserve. And Stef's delicious chocolate cherry brownies. I ate the Chex mix last night. All in all, things could be a lot worse. I don't live under the I-45 bridge. I'm not a crack whore, so I don't have to hide from my pimp. I don't have tuberculosis or scabies. I'm not married to someone I don't love. Oprah isn't trying to have me killed, because she could, you know, if she wanted to. My umbrella is way bigger than that guy's. I've been to Paris. Hey, look at that, I'm smiling.
Think of one good thing and have a better day. You could count ReadBecca as your good thing; it's just a suggestion. Dang, now I've gone all sappy. Huzzah for mood swings!
I just paid a bunch of bills. I had money to burn for 10 minutes and now I'm poor again. I hate that. I had to harass a freelance client for a check after that. Bitch better have my money. I'm starting to get all cranky and moany. I was going to go look for vintage ties today. I suppose I still could, but what if I find some? I can't buy them. And that is worse than not looking at all. The only thing I can legitimately purchase is a #882E scantron. I got a quarter in my purse for that. I'm hoping hot chocolate when I get home will at least partially lift my crap mood. I think if I deliberately stand outside until my fingers turn blue, I'll appreciate the cocoa even more and I won't feel sorry for myself anymore. At least I have cocoa. There are people who are much worse off. Poor cocoa-less waifs.
My hair looks good today, so I've got that going for me, which is nice. Dinner is already cooking in my crock pot, so I'm going to have something delicious waiting for me in addition to hot chocolate. I will also have garlic bread later. Nothing is better than garlic bread. I stand by that statement. I ate the ice cream, but I do have the extra creamy and delicious strawberry yogurt in reserve. And Stef's delicious chocolate cherry brownies. I ate the Chex mix last night. All in all, things could be a lot worse. I don't live under the I-45 bridge. I'm not a crack whore, so I don't have to hide from my pimp. I don't have tuberculosis or scabies. I'm not married to someone I don't love. Oprah isn't trying to have me killed, because she could, you know, if she wanted to. My umbrella is way bigger than that guy's. I've been to Paris. Hey, look at that, I'm smiling.
Think of one good thing and have a better day. You could count ReadBecca as your good thing; it's just a suggestion. Dang, now I've gone all sappy. Huzzah for mood swings!
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