do i really have anything to say?
not now that my MOTHER has decided to read this.
i told her it was ok.
but i think i was stoned when i said that.
(i'm kidding.)
(no, really.)
anyway, hi, mom.
i will say that i was specifically told not to steal any cigarettes from our little stash this morning because aaron had left a pack in my car. en route to work, i searched for said pack and screamed bloody murder when i couldn't find it. today has gone to absolute shit, perhaps not as a direct result, but no friday should start out like that.
and no friday should continue to be so godawful. my dad just called me at work -- why? what could be so important that, after all that work ethic he's hammered into me, he would feel the need to call me at work?
because he's having a bad day. and he's probably drunk dialing his daughter. at 10 in the morning. fuckin. a. faja;ljfda;lskjf.
a good thing: we got some fourth of fucking july shirts on today and my manager saved me the one medium that came. which not only means i'm the tiniest person here, but that was so nice! yay!
and what an evening i have planned for tonight: cleaning! wooooooo! i've been trying all week, but my deadline is tomorrow. i'm going to go straight home, have a bagel, throw on le tigre, and organize my pretty lil heart out. if anyone (cough) ANYONE wants to keep me compa, i'll be sure to show them a good time.
curs'ed day.