...but it didn't adhere to this very important rule this morning.
No it sure didn't!
iT and I decided to save the earth this morning and car pool. Well, that was handy!! Turned out, we had to use some major team work this morning. My opener slept in because she is (like the rest of us) exhausted. So I opened for her, which was fine because I had some other stuff I wanted to get done in the cafe this morning.
BUTT. (it's a big butt, get it? ha! sorry) anyway...
BUT... the problem here is that no one is really seeing the ripple effect here except for the people that have the most responsibility and the least say. I have to be careful what I say here. All I can say is that this morning was an epic failure of mass proportions and I hope that we can recover and get it together. Always a fun concept when we already know it's only going to get more interesting.
I'll give you the run down though so you can kind of see what I am dealing with this morning.
First of all, I closed last night. Which means that I was home around 11. WIRED like an alarm system and damn it if I couldn't fall asleep. So around 1 am my lids are just about to close when I hear... WTF? Is that fireworks? Yeah, those are fireworks... Awesome. Definitely not falling asleep anytime soon. Hooray. Alarm is going off at 5 am. Yeah, that's in four hours. 2 am... I am finally sleeping.
5 am... good morning world! And good morning Madeline! (who is in my face purring and tapping my nose with her paw as if to say... mama... i hungry... get up and feed my fat ass please (oh right, who am i kidding, since when do cats say please?)) And so I rise. I push my favorite button (that would be the coffee maker btw) and take a shower. I'm so proud of myself at this point. I'm up at 5 am, coffee is dripping, I'm showering and SHAVING (WHAT!?), and I don't have to clock in until 1 am. But ya know... we're saving the earth today so it's cool.
Leave the house caffeinated, heading to work, bright eyed and bushy tailed haired because I curled it this morning. I want to sing "I feel pretty..." and run about 15 miles. Arrive at work practically skipping and then all hell broke loose. I am surprisingly still in a fabulous mood though. I could run about 5 miles now since I used about 10 miles of my energy opening the cafe and assisting with the store open.
And that's as far as I have gotten. I'm doodling around the internet waiting for my second two hour shift (haha!) to begin. Could use a fire stick about now though. I mean... really.
Plans for the weekend include a movie tonight (perhaps Harry Potter... or just the stay at home kind since a friend generously offered a Netflix loan), working in the morning again (woot!) and then Saturday night is girls' night out. We need it. More than fish need water. I need to dance and have a beer or 7 (ok fine... 8). I need to dress up and wear heels that are inappropriate for work. I need to get sweaty from fun rather than from a mop bucket and a hot sink.
May your day be less retarded than mine and your weekend more creative. :)
Friday, July 17, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
kroger. 10 pm. beware.
So today was a pretty crap day. I slept an hour and a half last night. My glasses have evaporated into thin air. Work just suuu-u-u-ucked. So I came home, had a leftover spaghetti snack, and moped. Then roomie came home, we chatted, decided on sonic for dinner and i wanted ice cream!! (oh i drank beer...) No longer sober.... we made our way to drop off some tables teresa sold and then went to sonic. well.... almost.
Teresa sees the Kroger sign and all bets are off. We go to Kroger. She wants to make breakfast in the morning for her awesome roomie (that's me), and her video production crew for her haircut tomorrow. (Her hair is loooong and she is donating it to locks of love... awww... our friends are taping it) So naturally she needs Eggos, syrup and eggs. Get to the parking lot. I'm completely cool with staying in the car because I don't generally leave my house in pjs. I'm not sober, my hair looks kind of like morning hair, I have on baggy palazzo pants, and a long sleeve old ass holey Michigan t-shirt that's kind of see through due to the amount of bleach it has received. So yeah... not REALLY! She begged. I gave in. I step one foot out of the car and know in my soul this is going to be one of THOSE trips.
There's a coach bus in the parking lot. That means there are people in there. 10 pm at Kroger is not prime shopping time. But tonight it was. So we walk in... I look to the left and immediately want to kill Teresa with my bare hands. To the left: every hot man in America. There was not an ugly one in the bunch. These were the coach bus occupants. At least 30 of them. At LEAST. So... as if my dignity is not dangling enough from my soul, I then proceed to run into a sign whilst staring at the hotness. I mean... really.
So we begin on our list of EGGOS SYRUP AND EGGS! Arrive at the syrup and we have to study the syrup. Because as if I don't look enough like an asshole, I have to now look like a fat asshole and study the syrup. Because it's THAT important. We choose a syrup. Head on down to the freezer aisle where I now realize I'm no longer wearing winter protection for my chest and wouldn't ya know it.... so now I'm walking through the store with my arms crossed holding Eggos.
Pass some more hot men that are NEVER at Kroger at 10 pm when I'm wearing CUTE clothes and look human.
Find the eggs, have to rearrange a carton to get a whole carton of unbroken eggs.
Go to the checkout. I refuse to look up in case I catch the eye of one of the men that are now staring... (we were the only women in the store... can't blame them) So we're checking out and next to me I hear Spanish blaring from the self checkout next to us. I had to look. HAD to. Dude is not spanish. Dude is not even sure what the checkout is saying. Dude... is weird. He looks at me, shrugs, and I say to Teresa "Welcome to Kroger!" And we get the giggles...
I thought we were giggling at the same thing.
But we weren't.
We get halfway out the door and Teresa busts a guffaw and says... "Did you see that!?"
Me: "Clearly!"
Teresa: (still about to pee herself laughing) "No!" hahahah "Did you see what he just did?"
All manner of things raced through my head. Maybe he gave me the finger because *I* was making fun of him for broadening his Spanish whilst *I* am in my pjs in public. Maybe Teresa did something evil.
Me: "Um... no"
Keep in mind.. we're halfway through the gauntlet of HOT here ok? I proceed to turn around stare at the weird spanish lover and STOP in the middle of the place and yell at Teresa "WHAT!?" "Tell me!"
Teresa: (hahahahahahaha) "That (haha) guy (snort) just grabbed his nipples and inhaled when you walked by and pinched himself while staring at you!" (hahahahahahah)
Me: "Are you serious?" "That's GROOOSSSAH!" I'm now facing spanish lover and screaming this... but ya know... beer and all that... I didn't realize my decibel.
I collapse in laughter and also disgust. We walk quickly out of the store while people giggle in our wakes. I vow to never again wear pjs to the store. Pray that the fashion gods will forgive me and not ever punish me like that again. Ever.
Finally made it to Sonic though. Still laughing... the drive thru chick got mad at us for laughing. But I couldn't help myself. It was too perfect. This stuff doesn't happen to normal people.
Teresa sees the Kroger sign and all bets are off. We go to Kroger. She wants to make breakfast in the morning for her awesome roomie (that's me), and her video production crew for her haircut tomorrow. (Her hair is loooong and she is donating it to locks of love... awww... our friends are taping it) So naturally she needs Eggos, syrup and eggs. Get to the parking lot. I'm completely cool with staying in the car because I don't generally leave my house in pjs. I'm not sober, my hair looks kind of like morning hair, I have on baggy palazzo pants, and a long sleeve old ass holey Michigan t-shirt that's kind of see through due to the amount of bleach it has received. So yeah... not REALLY! She begged. I gave in. I step one foot out of the car and know in my soul this is going to be one of THOSE trips.
There's a coach bus in the parking lot. That means there are people in there. 10 pm at Kroger is not prime shopping time. But tonight it was. So we walk in... I look to the left and immediately want to kill Teresa with my bare hands. To the left: every hot man in America. There was not an ugly one in the bunch. These were the coach bus occupants. At least 30 of them. At LEAST. So... as if my dignity is not dangling enough from my soul, I then proceed to run into a sign whilst staring at the hotness. I mean... really.
So we begin on our list of EGGOS SYRUP AND EGGS! Arrive at the syrup and we have to study the syrup. Because as if I don't look enough like an asshole, I have to now look like a fat asshole and study the syrup. Because it's THAT important. We choose a syrup. Head on down to the freezer aisle where I now realize I'm no longer wearing winter protection for my chest and wouldn't ya know it.... so now I'm walking through the store with my arms crossed holding Eggos.
Pass some more hot men that are NEVER at Kroger at 10 pm when I'm wearing CUTE clothes and look human.
Find the eggs, have to rearrange a carton to get a whole carton of unbroken eggs.
Go to the checkout. I refuse to look up in case I catch the eye of one of the men that are now staring... (we were the only women in the store... can't blame them) So we're checking out and next to me I hear Spanish blaring from the self checkout next to us. I had to look. HAD to. Dude is not spanish. Dude is not even sure what the checkout is saying. Dude... is weird. He looks at me, shrugs, and I say to Teresa "Welcome to Kroger!" And we get the giggles...
I thought we were giggling at the same thing.
But we weren't.
We get halfway out the door and Teresa busts a guffaw and says... "Did you see that!?"
Me: "Clearly!"
Teresa: (still about to pee herself laughing) "No!" hahahah "Did you see what he just did?"
All manner of things raced through my head. Maybe he gave me the finger because *I* was making fun of him for broadening his Spanish whilst *I* am in my pjs in public. Maybe Teresa did something evil.
Me: "Um... no"
Keep in mind.. we're halfway through the gauntlet of HOT here ok? I proceed to turn around stare at the weird spanish lover and STOP in the middle of the place and yell at Teresa "WHAT!?" "Tell me!"
Teresa: (hahahahahahaha) "That (haha) guy (snort) just grabbed his nipples and inhaled when you walked by and pinched himself while staring at you!" (hahahahahahah)
Me: "Are you serious?" "That's GROOOSSSAH!" I'm now facing spanish lover and screaming this... but ya know... beer and all that... I didn't realize my decibel.
I collapse in laughter and also disgust. We walk quickly out of the store while people giggle in our wakes. I vow to never again wear pjs to the store. Pray that the fashion gods will forgive me and not ever punish me like that again. Ever.
Finally made it to Sonic though. Still laughing... the drive thru chick got mad at us for laughing. But I couldn't help myself. It was too perfect. This stuff doesn't happen to normal people.
Monday, July 13, 2009
the walk of shame is sometimes done in front of a mirror
i love and sort of hate when i read something that is so completely me. i love it because i don't feel like a loony bin contestant anymore due to the fact that somewhere out there is a person who can relate. i hate it because most of the time it's an unflattering look in the mirror. it's like an inner emotional walk of shame. except no one is watching but you. and no one is laughing at you but you. and no one wonders what you did but you. and most of the time i look like hell. i need something akin to an emotional long hot shower and a good hard scrubbing to wash it off. then, after the feeling of "holy shit! that's ME to a T!" wears off... i read voraciously onward to find out how they cured that particular cancer in themselves. i'm not finished with the book which means i have not reached the end of this author's journey but her life experiences resonate with me, which really pisses me off. mostly because i'm in my twenties and she's in her later thirties. i don't want to be 10 years older in my real age thanks very much. say what you will about being wise beyond your years and having experience but ya know, that's only cool when you're 10. when you're 27, you want to fucking BE 27. not 30, not 35, not 25... just 27.
ok so this is what i read:
eat, pray, love by elizabeth gilbert pg. 65
"I have boundary issues with men. Or maybe that's not fair to say. To have issues with boundaries, one must have boundaries in the first place, right?" (FUCK YOU LIZ!) "But I disappear into the person that I love. I am the permeable membrane. If I love you, you can have everything. You can have my time, my devotion, my ass, my money, my family, my dog, my dog's money, my dog's time - everything. If I love you, I will carry for you all your pain, I will assume for you all your debts (in every definition of the word), I will protect you from your own insecurity, I will project upon you all sorts of good qualities that you have never actually cultivated in yourself and I will buy Christmas presents for your entire family. I will give you the sun and the rain, and if they are not available, I will give you a sun check and a rain check. I will give you all this and more, until I get so exhausted and depleted that the only way I can recover my energy is by becoming infatuated with someone else."
Every sentence in this paragraph made me think... what a dumb ass. Then I thought... I'm a dumb ass. I met "the man of my dreams" when I was 15. Then I met him again when I was 16, 17, 21, 23, 24, 26 and now 27. Tim, Andy, Ryan, Stephen, Travis, Michael, etc. etc. etc. I mean seriously? I should change the "man of my dreams" cliche to "man of my recent dreams" -or- "he's not the man of my dreams but if i change this and this and definitely THAT, then he will be... i hope". At some point or another we all do this, however, most of us, wait, most of YOU, eventually learn that it's never gonna happen sweetie. Which is a good thing! The sooner you learn that the man of your dreams is the man you don't need to change, the better off you are.
HOOOOWever... then there's me! :) I am kind of the exception to every rule in some way or another. So am I better off now that I believe this new revelation? (hahaha) No. Of course not. I'm still the martyr in relationships, give give give. I don't believe I can change someone, so I go through guys like a world champion hot dog consumer. No sense of humor? Dumped. Ugly jeans? Dumped. Stupid hair? Dumped. Hate your family? Dumped. Walk weird? Dumped. I am... in a word... picky. So picky that I think I have hopped, skipped, and jumped over the pond to the other extreme of dumb ass. I'm kind of a relationship retard. I fall fast and hard and all that other pisces crap. This is a terrible place... picky. I don't want a fuck buddy either.
Please, anything but that! Please. I beg of you, the relationship retard gods... At one point, not that long ago, I really wanted this. But certain events have taken place that made me realize that it's not the sex I crave nor the attention. And let's have a side bar here while we're on the FB topic. OK, women... AWESOME at this kind of relationship. We know the rules. We understand this game. This game is simple. WE hang out, we watch a movie, we fuck, we eventually GO HOME. No strings. No DTR conversations. Just sex. Nothing else. Guys... fail epically and this type of relationship. I was talking to one of my friends the other day about this particular "relationship". She is gay and has a lot of female friends who talk to her about their man issues. Every single one that has ever had a fuck buddy and then proceeded to find a real relationship ended up getting snubbed by the FB. Why, you ask? Because the dude got attached. That's right... HE wanted a relationship.
This happened to me. Before my last relationship began I had a great friend who I also had sex with. We started out as strictly JUST FBs. Then all of a sudden he wanted to take me to dinner and wanted to cook for me and brought me presents and gave me his sweatshirts to wear and left his clothes in my house, etc. We were dating without the official label. Through out this whole weird ordeal, I was actively dating other men. FB would get pissed! And jealous! OMG... jealous. And then would show up the next day wanting to talk and cuddle, etc. It was the weirdest thing. So one night I grew a pair and asked him what the deal was. I was tired of his weird mood. His reply... nothing. Absolute silence. And then... snoring. So clearly this was not a subject he wanted to breech. It was absolutely ridiculous. So when I actually ended up in a relationship, he quit talking to me altogether and still to this day will talk to me for about 5 minutes and then he "has to go". I hurt him. I didn't mean to. I thought we were just having sex and being friends. Apparently, he was developing feelings but didn't want to talk about it. So do I want this again? No, I think I'm ok with loneliness for now. Fuck buddies equal drama... unforeseen drama even.
I am a matchmaker's nightmare. I will give them my list of must haves and must nots and they will giggle themselves to sleep. I'm picky. I don't want a fuck buddy. I hate dating. All you fans of dating must be swimming in a pool with cool fish because mine suck. That's right, I'm swimming in a talk full of plecostomus. It's funny because I want to be in a relationship, get married, have kids and all that. But in order for that to transpire I have to date. It's sort of like wanting to be a doctor but hating school. It's completely contradictory and ironic but hey... so is using war to achieve peace.
So bless you, Elizabeth Gilbert and your genius of eat, pray, love. I can't wait to read what your journey taught you. Mostly because I am now using your book without permission as a compass. My north is my south for the moment. You remind me of myself and unfortunately you are older than me and hopefully, by the end of this book, wiser. Because I want to be 27, not 35. I want to steal your wisdom and your experiences and apply them to my own crazy cancer that is eating away at all that is lovely and wonderful in this weird, illogical world of love. I want to walk by a mirror and not hang my head in shame after another round of "why did i date that guy?" and "what went wrong?" I want to walk by and give myself a thumbs up for a date done well. A big rockin' smile for not fucking it all up.
ok so this is what i read:
eat, pray, love by elizabeth gilbert pg. 65
"I have boundary issues with men. Or maybe that's not fair to say. To have issues with boundaries, one must have boundaries in the first place, right?" (FUCK YOU LIZ!) "But I disappear into the person that I love. I am the permeable membrane. If I love you, you can have everything. You can have my time, my devotion, my ass, my money, my family, my dog, my dog's money, my dog's time - everything. If I love you, I will carry for you all your pain, I will assume for you all your debts (in every definition of the word), I will protect you from your own insecurity, I will project upon you all sorts of good qualities that you have never actually cultivated in yourself and I will buy Christmas presents for your entire family. I will give you the sun and the rain, and if they are not available, I will give you a sun check and a rain check. I will give you all this and more, until I get so exhausted and depleted that the only way I can recover my energy is by becoming infatuated with someone else."
Every sentence in this paragraph made me think... what a dumb ass. Then I thought... I'm a dumb ass. I met "the man of my dreams" when I was 15. Then I met him again when I was 16, 17, 21, 23, 24, 26 and now 27. Tim, Andy, Ryan, Stephen, Travis, Michael, etc. etc. etc. I mean seriously? I should change the "man of my dreams" cliche to "man of my recent dreams" -or- "he's not the man of my dreams but if i change this and this and definitely THAT, then he will be... i hope". At some point or another we all do this, however, most of us, wait, most of YOU, eventually learn that it's never gonna happen sweetie. Which is a good thing! The sooner you learn that the man of your dreams is the man you don't need to change, the better off you are.
HOOOOWever... then there's me! :) I am kind of the exception to every rule in some way or another. So am I better off now that I believe this new revelation? (hahaha) No. Of course not. I'm still the martyr in relationships, give give give. I don't believe I can change someone, so I go through guys like a world champion hot dog consumer. No sense of humor? Dumped. Ugly jeans? Dumped. Stupid hair? Dumped. Hate your family? Dumped. Walk weird? Dumped. I am... in a word... picky. So picky that I think I have hopped, skipped, and jumped over the pond to the other extreme of dumb ass. I'm kind of a relationship retard. I fall fast and hard and all that other pisces crap. This is a terrible place... picky. I don't want a fuck buddy either.
Please, anything but that! Please. I beg of you, the relationship retard gods... At one point, not that long ago, I really wanted this. But certain events have taken place that made me realize that it's not the sex I crave nor the attention. And let's have a side bar here while we're on the FB topic. OK, women... AWESOME at this kind of relationship. We know the rules. We understand this game. This game is simple. WE hang out, we watch a movie, we fuck, we eventually GO HOME. No strings. No DTR conversations. Just sex. Nothing else. Guys... fail epically and this type of relationship. I was talking to one of my friends the other day about this particular "relationship". She is gay and has a lot of female friends who talk to her about their man issues. Every single one that has ever had a fuck buddy and then proceeded to find a real relationship ended up getting snubbed by the FB. Why, you ask? Because the dude got attached. That's right... HE wanted a relationship.
This happened to me. Before my last relationship began I had a great friend who I also had sex with. We started out as strictly JUST FBs. Then all of a sudden he wanted to take me to dinner and wanted to cook for me and brought me presents and gave me his sweatshirts to wear and left his clothes in my house, etc. We were dating without the official label. Through out this whole weird ordeal, I was actively dating other men. FB would get pissed! And jealous! OMG... jealous. And then would show up the next day wanting to talk and cuddle, etc. It was the weirdest thing. So one night I grew a pair and asked him what the deal was. I was tired of his weird mood. His reply... nothing. Absolute silence. And then... snoring. So clearly this was not a subject he wanted to breech. It was absolutely ridiculous. So when I actually ended up in a relationship, he quit talking to me altogether and still to this day will talk to me for about 5 minutes and then he "has to go". I hurt him. I didn't mean to. I thought we were just having sex and being friends. Apparently, he was developing feelings but didn't want to talk about it. So do I want this again? No, I think I'm ok with loneliness for now. Fuck buddies equal drama... unforeseen drama even.
I am a matchmaker's nightmare. I will give them my list of must haves and must nots and they will giggle themselves to sleep. I'm picky. I don't want a fuck buddy. I hate dating. All you fans of dating must be swimming in a pool with cool fish because mine suck. That's right, I'm swimming in a talk full of plecostomus. It's funny because I want to be in a relationship, get married, have kids and all that. But in order for that to transpire I have to date. It's sort of like wanting to be a doctor but hating school. It's completely contradictory and ironic but hey... so is using war to achieve peace.
So bless you, Elizabeth Gilbert and your genius of eat, pray, love. I can't wait to read what your journey taught you. Mostly because I am now using your book without permission as a compass. My north is my south for the moment. You remind me of myself and unfortunately you are older than me and hopefully, by the end of this book, wiser. Because I want to be 27, not 35. I want to steal your wisdom and your experiences and apply them to my own crazy cancer that is eating away at all that is lovely and wonderful in this weird, illogical world of love. I want to walk by a mirror and not hang my head in shame after another round of "why did i date that guy?" and "what went wrong?" I want to walk by and give myself a thumbs up for a date done well. A big rockin' smile for not fucking it all up.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
calling all fleas, ticks, bees and wtf is THAT!?
I have a problem... I think bugs are following me. I know. I KNOW! Ok? But hear me out.
The cafe that I manage suddenly has flies. Lots of flies. They're everywhere. The floor is clean, the grease trap is clean, everything is CLEAN. I'm anal. Trust me. It's clean. But the flies... oh my God!
THEN, I go home to sit outside on our front patio and there are BEES! IN THE GROUND PEOPLE! I mean, seriously??? Bees make nests in the ground now? Why do they have to build where I enjoy my morning coffee and after work cigarette? I enjoy the peace and quiet of the front porch. The birds sing, the wind blows, the sky is pretty from that angle... and now instead of relaxing, I flail around helplessly hoping not to throw folger's black silk all over myself or burn my hair off with a lit smokey treat. What am I supposed to do?
I woke up to my neighbor's fire alarm this morning. Waited for 911 to arrive. They came, they saw, they found the dying fire alarm and were unable to put the thing out of its misery. So it's still blaring. When the excitement wound down, I went to go potty after cup number 2 of coffee and entered the roomie's bathroom. Only to find.... a fucking tick. On the shower curtain. As if to say, "Good Morning master!" They're following me. The bugs are. I know it.
Because when I went to go lay down in bed last night... there was a bug on my pillow. I killed it. Shut up PETA. I know. But it had too many legs and it was on my resting place. I'm unsure of the type because I have never seen a bug with this odd appearance in my life. So not only are the bugs assisting me at work, they are also tucking me in at night, greeting me during my morning coffee, welcoming me home and WATCHING ME PEE!
This is invasive. This is ridiculous. I need a personal body guard to protect me from the stalking insects.
Apparently I might need to add rodents to this list as well because to my knowledge, there have never been sun loving bats. But there's a bat outside the store. He hangs out in my smoking area. His name is Lucky Bruce, affectionately named by the other smokers of the store. He's gross. He's big. He flies and he looks like a beetle when he's sleeping. (I'm assuming he is sleeping since he hasn't tried to attack my head yet.)
Also, I'm dating again. I hate it. Still hate it, rather. Maybe I should join a family who can choose a husband for me. Arranged marriages are the most successful. Wouldn't that be amazing? It's not so much a desperation thing, but more of a quality thing. I apparently suck at choosing men so why not let someone else choose him for me? Or better yet, LOTS of someones. It would be like the judge and jury choosing a life sentence. But a good one.
I might be on to something here, until then... I need to find some OFF! But like OFF! for my personal spaces rather than for my body.
The cafe that I manage suddenly has flies. Lots of flies. They're everywhere. The floor is clean, the grease trap is clean, everything is CLEAN. I'm anal. Trust me. It's clean. But the flies... oh my God!
THEN, I go home to sit outside on our front patio and there are BEES! IN THE GROUND PEOPLE! I mean, seriously??? Bees make nests in the ground now? Why do they have to build where I enjoy my morning coffee and after work cigarette? I enjoy the peace and quiet of the front porch. The birds sing, the wind blows, the sky is pretty from that angle... and now instead of relaxing, I flail around helplessly hoping not to throw folger's black silk all over myself or burn my hair off with a lit smokey treat. What am I supposed to do?
I woke up to my neighbor's fire alarm this morning. Waited for 911 to arrive. They came, they saw, they found the dying fire alarm and were unable to put the thing out of its misery. So it's still blaring. When the excitement wound down, I went to go potty after cup number 2 of coffee and entered the roomie's bathroom. Only to find.... a fucking tick. On the shower curtain. As if to say, "Good Morning master!" They're following me. The bugs are. I know it.
Because when I went to go lay down in bed last night... there was a bug on my pillow. I killed it. Shut up PETA. I know. But it had too many legs and it was on my resting place. I'm unsure of the type because I have never seen a bug with this odd appearance in my life. So not only are the bugs assisting me at work, they are also tucking me in at night, greeting me during my morning coffee, welcoming me home and WATCHING ME PEE!
This is invasive. This is ridiculous. I need a personal body guard to protect me from the stalking insects.
Apparently I might need to add rodents to this list as well because to my knowledge, there have never been sun loving bats. But there's a bat outside the store. He hangs out in my smoking area. His name is Lucky Bruce, affectionately named by the other smokers of the store. He's gross. He's big. He flies and he looks like a beetle when he's sleeping. (I'm assuming he is sleeping since he hasn't tried to attack my head yet.)
Also, I'm dating again. I hate it. Still hate it, rather. Maybe I should join a family who can choose a husband for me. Arranged marriages are the most successful. Wouldn't that be amazing? It's not so much a desperation thing, but more of a quality thing. I apparently suck at choosing men so why not let someone else choose him for me? Or better yet, LOTS of someones. It would be like the judge and jury choosing a life sentence. But a good one.
I might be on to something here, until then... I need to find some OFF! But like OFF! for my personal spaces rather than for my body.
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