In Which Time Gets Away From Me Sometimes

Its always fun to worry.

I'm pretending to work, and I assure you that I am not as lazy as my posts seem to indicate. My laptop (on loan from my mom) has taken a shit on me, which puts me back with Dr. Strangelove, my beeping timebomb of a Franken-laptop. This means typing and thought more complete and comprehensive than "lol" is more work than it should be.

So here I am, at work, faking the funk until I leave for lunch and or my boss gets here.

I checked out of this job quite a piece ago, but shit, I need the money and the benefits and the letters of rec I ought to squeeze out of every person I have ever worked with. Well, almost every person I have worked with. Something's better than nothing at all.

Things are kind of looking up, as far as some other things go, mostly wedding related.

My boyfriend confuses me. I'll go into detail soon enough, mostly when I get another time to breathe and eat.

I went to see The Suicide Machines on Saturday. I met a million people, got hit on twice and even saw somebody I knew. Those are my favorite kind of nights, full of unexpected diva status (the good kind).

And on that note, I'm getting into some sun.