Of course, I've only been awake for an hour, so there's time for that to change. Days I can sleep in make me happy. :) I also woke up surrounded by my pets, which made me smile. I usually have my dog and one cat snuggled up to me, but today I woke up with one cat on the spare pillow in front of me, one cat snuggled against the top of my head, my dog between my back and my other spare pillow, and my other cat stretched out along my legs. The cat at the top of my head was grooming me--and she's the least lovey of my kitties.

I love my furbabies. :)

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So, I determined the origins of the coat tree I received the Friday before Christmas. It was from my aunt. It was nice of her--it was what was on my list, so stop making that puking noise, you in the back!

I told her I'd already put it together when I talked to her on Christmas--I didn't want to hurt her feelings by telling her the box had been sitting on my kitchen floor for a week. So naturally, there are no screws or pegs or anything in the box with which to hook it together! And a web search for the "company" she ordered it from turned up nothing. From the home-printed packing slip and the fact that the pieces were wrapped in the December 16th newspaper, I'm thinking it was an ebay purchase.

It's going to fun dragging the pieces to a hardware store and trying to find bits to assemble this.

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I don't have a particular feeling about the new year as a point of starting over, etc. I think the only reason I feel introspective is because I remember what was happening and where I was a year ago. There are few days that I know exactly where I was at that time, so naturally days where I can clearly identify where I was lend themselves to looking back.

A year ago today, I was living in a different town. I had an actually pretty good retail job, with good pay and good benefits. I was probably going to be promoted to store manager soon. I had friends that I saw on a daily basis, because we worked in the same store or the same mall. I was close to my cousins. I wasn't single; instead I was in a confusing relationship with someone I'd been in a relationship with (off and on) for a long, long time. I thought we might make it work this time. (A year ago tomorrow, I spent the day brokenhearted and sobbing because of that person. I never learn, I guess.)

Generally speaking, I was happy. I felt like I had things to look forward to. Now ... I live 80 miles away from the place that was home for three years. I rarely see my friends. I rarely see my cousins. I'm waitressing full-time, with unstable pay and no benefits--my store got closed down, and I went back to school. I guess that's good, but I think I'd rather be able to go to the doctor when I need to than be going to school. I'm alone, I have no friends here and no significant other, and I'm struggling. I'm struggling to keep my head above water in every way--financially, emotionally, in terms of my health.

I feel unhappy, scattered, and not secure. I feel like at any moment I'm going to lose my grip on things, lose my grip and not have the strength to claw my way up and get through another day of responsibilities and stress. But I don't know why I feel like this! Logically speaking, I'm not in a terrible position. There are people much worse off. But I feel like I feel when I'm out of Prozac, only I'm not out. When I got home from a birthday party last night, I sat here and cried for about half an hour. Why? I don't know why.

I think some of it is isolation. For two years, if I was feeling lonely or bored, I had at least seven people I could call and they were all within ten minutes of my house. I could go to one workplace or another and hang out with people. Up here .... I have family, but it's not the same. I can admit to my friends when I feel like I'm suffocating, but I have a harder time with family. All I do now is go to work, come home, and once a week or so see my dad. I haven't seen any friends since November. I have people at work that I talk to and am friendly with, but none of them are really friends yet.

Basically I'm feeling sorry for myself right now, I guess. I've been in a funk since Friday, and I can't seem to get out of it. I don't know if it's the time of year or what. Maybe I just need a vacation? I don't know. I don't know how to make myself feel better. I've basically been spending almost every spare moment reading--you can gauge how unhappy I am by how much I immerse myself in other peoples' fantasy worlds. I read a lot anyway, but when I'm distressed I tend to re-read things that are familiar, that I can lose myself in without really having to engage my mind. It's better than crack, I guess.

I just have to hang on. Just keep plugging along, and things will get better.

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I didn't think I'd ever heard and Iron & Wine song before I saw Twilight. I fell asleep reading on the couch tonight, and woke up to the end of an episode of House ("Wilson's Heart"). I'd seen it before, of course, and I remembered sort of liking the song and figured I'd go and look it up. Surprise! It's an Iron & Wine song called Passing Afternoon.



This is how I acquire music--slowly. :)

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Two days of double shifts will do that to you, I suppose. Every time I try to get up, I feel like all my muscles have locked up. I'd like to curl up in my bed for the next week, but the next fourteen hours will have to be sufficient. God I'm tired.

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I knew that one of my classes I'd only scored a D in. The other, I thought I had a high B. So imagine my surprise when I logged on and had a D listed for both.

Turns out that there's an entire category of stuff that had grades listed, but that weren't added in to the final grade. No, that's not confusing.

Fuck.

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As we were pulling in to the Wal Mart parking lot tonight, a very large man came out and started across the crosswalk. My dad and grandma were in the front seat, and I was in the back. My grandma did her usual "LOOK OUT FOR THAT MAN!" thing, because of course no one else can drive; and my dad said he saw him.

And then he added "Jesus Christ, look at that fat fucking slob." Or something along those lines, I forget the exact words. But it pissed me off.

"You have a fat person in the back seat, you know. Don't be nasty." I started. I guess I was a little more vehement than I realized, because my dad sounded sort of surprised when he said "Okay, okay, calm down." My slightly-less-than-with-it grandma hijacked the conversation with some random observation or story or something at that point, so I didn't end up launching into a full-on fat acceptance speech ... but it was right on the tip of my tongue.

I think my dad assumes, like most people do, that I'm perpetually on a diet/thinking about a diet/worrying about being on a diet/whatever. I think he assumes that I think I'm a thin person who just looks fat right now. I don't think he realizes that not only do I look fat, I feel fat (in the way of "this is how I am", not the "OMGGGGGGG I'm such a whale!" way), and I identify as fat. And I'm okay with that. So when he calls some random person walking down the street a "fat fucking slob", I basically think he thinks that about me.

Thanks to my grandma being ... well, herself, I didn't get that far. But I'm sure it'll come up again.

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There used to a website for Iwanex Studios, that had about 20 pictures of celebrities and showed both the before and after for the photos they'd re-touched. It was there three days ago .... and now it's gone. Which sucks, because there were some example of some really atrocious retouching--atrocious as in the changes made were fucking ridiculous, and are perfect examples of why the media makes people hate themselves. This link has one example, of Cameron Diaz, but it's not actually the worst. Actually, in that one, the retouched image doesn't show her jutting hipbones the way the first photo did, so I guess that's a good thing, to minimize the anorexic ideal.

Some of them aren't as bad as others--for example, this photo of Cate Blanchett where they basically erased her freckles and any lines. Oh, and changed her hair color. And possibly her eye color. And the color of her lips. But at least with this picture, you can say that the look could be achieved with makeup and/or hair dye. The retouched photos of men were basically the same--smooth out wrinkles, even out skin tone, etc.

But some of them ... holy cow. Check out Penelope Cruz, or rather check out how different she looks after clever Photoshpper has changed her skin tone slightly, evened her breasts and slightly changed the shape of them, and nipped in her waist. And look at the different in her hair--like the strand on her forehead that was removed, and the others in the top left that have been erased. Can't have her hair moving like a regular person's hair would in a breeze! Or have it be her actual color, either. Her left ear has suddenly appeared in the "after" photo, too. Why do they change these things?

This is fun: watch Eva Longoria suddenly be thinner, with bigger hips! And her hair suddenly has highlights, and her smile is different, as is her skin tone. And maybe her eye color? And the bust of her little nightgown is more transparent in the second photo as well.



Last one, I promise. Now, you have to look beyond the weirdness of the photo in the first place--why is Beyonce slicing peppers, in a bikini, with a machete? Then look at how her hair has different colors in it. And how her boobs are bigger. And how, in the photo on the left, you can see "muffin top" and even a "roll" on her stomach! Check out her right calf, and how much bigger it is on the right than on the left. Look at how, on the left, she sort of looks tired.

You hear all the time how celebrities don't even look like celebrities, and it's so true. It's not even that people are trying to look like celebrities--celebrities are above average, generally speaking, but they're human. But there are people killing themselves to reach these goals that can only be accomplished with digital manipulation.

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My plan was to come home from work and studying through the night. Then I'd go take my exam, go to my doctor's appointment, and then come home and crash for as long as possible before going back to work.

What actually happened: work was awful, completely draining. I came home with my head throbbing, my blood pressure probably sky-high, feeling sort of lightheaded and generally exhausted. I also had been having lovely stabbing pains up the side of my neck that made me feel like gagging, and also resulted in me dropping a bunch of plates at work..

So when I got home, I dug out my heating pad, set an alarm for the middle of the night, and gave myself some time to relax. Unfortunately, my neck pain spread down into my shoulder while using the heating pad--I have no idea how or why. It was so bad I gave up and took three more Advil and went to bed, because lying completely still was the only way to minimize the pain--any movement, including breathing, hurt. I knew I needed to study, but sitting up and turning pages was .... ouch.

I've been awake for nearly an hour; not that I really got any sleep anyway, since every time I'd roll over in my sleep the pain would wake me up. Since waking up I've been staring at my study guide blankly, feeling ridiculously overwhelmed. I'm basically screwed, I think.

Then again, whether I get 40% or 100% on this exam, it won't change my letter grade. I guess I shouldn't worry. The exam is in 25 minutes, it's not like I can do anything anyway at this point. It's my own fault I'm in this situation with my overall grade anyway, I just have to suck it up already.

I just hope the nice doctor can give me a muscle relaxer or something, because this pain when I breathe? So not boding well for a busy Friday night at work. Or the two days of double shifts after it.

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I thought my final tomorrow was just over the last few chapters. Oh no! It's cumulative! It's that fucking awesome?

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Nothing like being stuck within a ten foot radius of the bathroom at all times.

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I got home, and I got my last discussion posting of the semester done. I gave up my lunch close shift to do this, in fact, because at 22 points it's sort of a lot of my grade (I tried to do it before but couldn't access the movie I needed to watch). The deadline was five o'clock, and only one other person did it, which makes me think the sneaky professor announced during a class I missed that it was optional, or something.

After that I fell asleep on my couch for a while, and woke up with knots in my muscles all over. And now I don't know what to do with myself. I'm bored of reading, bored of tv, bored of sleeping. I am bored and irritable. I was feeling pretty good earlier in the day. Now, I feel fatter than fat, lethargic and cranky, and at a loss for what to do with myself.

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A couple of my coworkers, let's call them Joe and Jill, got married on Saturday. Yay for them! I guess? I sort of got the impression they did it because her father is having serious health problems. They've been together a while, but still, the timing seems suspicious. Anyway.

Last Tuesday, the manager had made a sample of our new dessert for everybody to try. Jill wasn't there that day, but Joe was. So Joe asks the manager ...

"Are you going to be making one these tomorrow too?"
The manager says yes, and why?
"Well, I was hoping you'd hold off until the next day so Jill wouldn't be tempted when she works tomorrow."

At first, I thought, "he's seriously asking management to not show employees the new dessert we're selling because his fiancee is on a diet?"
Then I thought, WTF? Why is he asking? and I piped up. "Why does it matter?"
Joe says, "Because she has to still fit in to her wedding dress we just spent $XXX on!"
Everyone else seemed to think that was logical, but I couldn't contain myself. "ONE COOKIE is not going to affect that!"

I should've known I'd get attacked from all sides--here I am, the fatty taking about food! (grr)
Another coworker, who's always complaining about how she's sooooo fat, says "Yes it will!" A couple other people jumped in. Joe at least has a somewhat rational response--rational from the point of conventional wisdom, that is: "No, but one of everything she's tempted with might."

I just shook my head and let the group of ignorant people around me go about their jobs. I knew I wasn't going to convince them in those few minutes that:
a) the idea of looking as thin as possible for that one day is fucking insane
b) a naturally thin person is not going to become fat from eating
c) one bite of a dessert, even one entire fucking dessert, is not going to make her blow up even if she's not naturally slender
d) "succumbing" to one "temptation" doesn't mean you're going to eat everything in the world
e) it's wrong for society to be enforcing these ideas
and
f) I'm not just saying it because I'm fat.

(In reading this over, I can see how some might think Joe was being controlling, as well. But knowing them, I can say with almost 100% certainty that she asked him for this "help".)

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Awesome. I woke up with that scraped, gunky cold feeling in my throat. Didn't I just go through this a month ago? I don't normally buy the idea that being in the cold will make you cold, but it does seem oddly coincidental that last night it was below zero when I left work, and my car doesn't really warm up until I'm almost home, and now I'm getting sick. It didn't actually feel that cold to me; I mean, it wasn't pleasant, but I didn't even have a coat on and I felt fine. Maybe I'm not really getting sick, maybe it's sinus drainage. Here's hoping.

Also, I'd really like to brush my hair, but my brush has mysteriously vanished from all the places I keep it.

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I had dinner with my dad's whole family tonight. These events are always slightly uncomfortable--I've always felt like an outsider. Tonight's dinner, I lucked out, and was at one of the table with my cousins while the "adults" were at the other end. So I got to spend most of the meal wisecracking with them, which was great.

Not so great was a brief exchange over my ... cousin-in-law's dad's health (we'll call her Stephanie). A couple of months ago he was having some heart issues. The way his daughter described it was that all the parts of his heart were contracting at different time. I don't know how accurate that actually is. I had just asked her about her dad, and all she said was that he was doing much better and the prognosis was good.

Then my aunt asks: "How's your dad?"
Stephanie: "He's great! (something about his attitude) and he's lost 20 pounds--"
Aunt, who used to be a nurse, cuts her off: "That's great! That's really good!"
Stephanie: "--from not being able to do anything. Yeah, it's great!" She's totally serious.

So ... a previously averagely-active, golf-playing guy loses 20 pounds after a couple months of inactivity, and this is a GOOD thing? Yes, he's technically "overweight", and of course TEH FATZ KILLZ!!!111!!! But how much of that generic "weight" loss is loss of muscle from suddenly becoming completely sedentary? How much of it is from not eating because of medication-related nausea? How much is because he's been so depressed and emotional about the prospect of dropping dead any moment that he hasn't been eating?

Wait, I forgot. Weight loss is always good, no matter how it's achieved. Silly me.

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Please give a gift receipt, as nobody will do freaking exchanges anymore without it. Jeez!
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Because you know my neighbors just can't properly appreciate the sight of me shakin' my thing to Deelite until my socks have completely turned around on my feet and I have a cramp in my side.

Then again, maybe nobody needs to appreciate that.

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to watch this video and not be entranced. I love it!


It's by Iron & Wine, and the song is called "Boy With A Coin". I admit I never would've heard of Iron & Wine if I weren't a Twilight geek; because of that I heard "Flightless Bird, American Mouth", which is my song du jour(s).

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Don't mind me. I was getting undressed when my dog started barking to go out. Aren't my cherry-printed underwear cute?

(No, my neighbor didn't actually see me. But it occurred to me he could've been out there after I'd opened the door.)

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(This is a sponsored post)

I think this could be a really fun sight! acobay.com is brand-new, but it allows you to network with other people who have the same items/like the same things you do. It's very specific, not broad categories. For example, I went in and put in "My Stuffs" that I have a Blackberry Pearl. Now, at the moment, nobody else seems to have registered as having a Blackberry Pearl. But when they do, I think it'll be a cool resource for "hey, how can I make it do this?" or "how can I fix this?"

I also listed myself as liking "The Princess Bride". I didn't write a detailed review, but again, I think when other people join, it'll be fun. The people I work with get tired of me spouting random movie lines at them--so I can do it on Acobay!

You can list all sorts of things. Music, movies, cars, phones, cameras, restaurants, locations. It'd be cool to be able to log on and look up people who like my favorite Chinese restaurant, and then check out other ones that they recommend.

It is a brand-new site, so it doesn't have the huge number of users yet to make big networks--but if you all go join, it will! :)

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I forgot I didn't have any refills left on my Prozac prescription, and have been too lazy/forgetful to make an appointment to get a new prescription. D'oh! I know better than that ... but apparently I don't, because I've done this.

And, as always, the first few days, I was fine. Then I started getting irritable. I'm now at the stage where perfectly normal everyday things are making me want to scream and punch somebody. Little things, like, you know, going to work.

I don't know why I do this. Maybe, deep down, I'm not as reconciled as I think I am to the fact that I probably need to take it forever. Or maybe it's simpler than that. Maybe I'm just lazy. :)

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I mean, I'm sure there are some clever references in here I'm just not picking up on. Or perhaps it really is just bizarre random hilarity. Either way, Ben Bernanke is apparently a furious magician.

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I was going to move my bed. But she looks so happy in the sun!

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I'm not sure why I've been so exhausted the last couple of days. Yesterday, I slept until 1:30. I fell asleep again at about 11, and slept until 10:30 this morning. It's now almost noon, and I feel like going back to bed.

Aw, fuck. I know why I'm tired. It's getting to be that time again. That time, every 30 days, when I have to suffer for my particular reproductive organs. Dammit. Now I want to go back to bed just because I'm cranky at this day.

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I'm not sure what's up, and so I'm not sure what steps to take to correct it. I felt fine when I got home from work; then I got more and more annoyed by my printer's refusal to work properly. Then I rushed to Walgreens, rushed home, and rushed to my dad's house. When I got there, I felt nauseous and headachy, but I attributed that to the winding road and changing elevation. And then I started to feel weirdly lightheaded and sort of dizzy, but I thought it was from not eating. But after dinner, it continued.

Coming down the hill, I again started feeling ill. Now I'm home, and have been for an hour, and I feel .... weird. Not dizzy, but like the after-effects of dizzy. Sort of nauseous, but kind of hungry too. And, the weirdest of all, randomly twitchy. Oh, and then I have this sorta metallic taste in my mouth, on the sides of my tongue. I feel like I should know what that means, but I don't know what's up. Did I not eat enough today? I did go huge intervals without eating. Is it from being overtired? I don't know. Is it from going up and down the mountain? That usually dissipates by now. I just don't know.

The good news is my dad liked his present. He was sort of mystified by it at first, and then seemed sort of ambivalent. But once he understood that it wasn't just one photo on a digital screen, he seemed to really like it. He's so hard to buy for, so it's nice to feel like I scored a win this year.

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I should be asleep. But I suddenly thought maybe I'd start playing around with the digital photo frame I got for my dad for his birthday ... seeing as that's today and I hadn't opened it. Erm. Yeah. Anyway, I started digging around in an unopened box looking for pictures, and I found one I hadn't counted on. I knew I had it, but I hadn't thought about it since I packed up my apartment in July.

It's a picture of my parents, from about twelve or fourteen years ago. They'd just gotten back together after divorcing and being apart for four years ... and they look happy. They look happy together. My grandmother gave it to me after they split up again, and for a long time I couldn't even look at it. Eventually, I hung it up in my living room, and it was comforting, because it was important to me to know that the two people who are the reason for my existence weren't always like they are now (which is a whole separate thing).

I'm basically okay with it now ... most of the time. But pulling that picture of the box unexpectedly like that was sort of a punch in the stomach.

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For changing my sheets and pillowcases. And turning my back for ten seconds. Ain't she adorable?
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Yesterday after my grandma's hair appointment, we were trying to decide whether we should eat somewhere nearby or wait until we got closer to home. I said it didn't matter to me, I hadn't eaten in so long that it didn't really matter to me. She says "Skipping breakfast isn't going to help you lose weight!" I shrugged and said I'm not trying to lose weight, so it doesn't matter.

She reached over and slapped me on the leg (not lightly) and said "WELL YOU BETTER!" I couldn't help it, I laughed. "Why?" I said.

"What, do you WANT to be heavy?"

"I don't care, I'm perfectly happy."

(silence) "Oh." She said something else then, but I don't remember what it was, that prompted me to say that there have been a lot of studies that fat isn't as unhealthy as people think and I don't feel the need to conform to some stupid beauty standard. I don't think she believed me. She then told me how she wants to lose weight, she'd be happier. I changed the subject. I wasn't going to convince her anyway.

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I didn't get enough sleep; which is my own stupid fault. When I woke up, I was really hoping I could persuade my grandmother to reschedule her appointment. I wasn't looking forward to a seventy mile drive in the snow. But I'd told her I'd take her, and she said she couldn't reschedule, and so I got in my car and headed out. I traded cars with my dad (long story), picked up my grandma, and headed south. There wasn't time to eat beforehand after all, which sucked. Five hours later I dropped her off and headed to work.

I feel bad saying it, but spending that much time alone with her is absolutely exhausting. Every time, it's the same conversation. I hear about my great-uncle's heart problem, and how my dad should stop drinking. I have to explain how the carpool/toll lane works again. She points out, every time, the church she has a craft show at, and how to get there. She tells me when to get into the next lane to exit the highway, usually at the wrong time. When I try to tell her that I've already heard the story she's repeating, she continues anyway. And it's just exhausting to try to feign interest in things I've heard a million times. I suppose that makes me a horrible granddaughter.

I got home two hours ago, and have spent most of that time sort of idly killing time--starting to do something, then feeling nauseated or headachy and lying down again. Maybe sleep will help, maybe I'm just over-exhausted. Or maybe it's got something to do with having eaten once today, about 11 hours ago.

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About twice a year, I randomly remember this and spend a couple of days frightening innocent bystanders by talking about Uncle Arnie's hex vision. This is one of those times.

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So I've been trying to find more work shirts, which is surprisingly difficult. I'm supposed to wear a plain black polo with no logos. The problem is that it's December, and nobody has short-sleeved shirts. Waitressing in a long sleeves is so not going to happen--I overheat as it is.

I tried Lane Bryant again today, and after about an hour of trying on different things that I knew weren't going to work, and trying on some other stuff, I was about to give up. One of the sales staff asked what I was looking for, and it turned out they did have exactly one thing that fit the bill. Sort of. I'd tried it on before, a couple of months ago, and I didn't like it. I'm not a big fan of rouching, at least not on my boobs--making them look smaller just makes my stomach look bigger. And that's what rouching does, create the illusion that the fabric is puffy, not what's underneath.

But, I'm pretty much desperate. I have four good work shirts, and I've been working eight shifts a week over five or six days. I don't have a washer and dryer yet, and my backup work shirts are increasingly hated. Once or twice I've rocked a plain v-neck t-shirt, and I haven't gotten reamed for it, but I can't do that too often. So I bought two of these shirts, and I wore one to work tonight.

Almost everybody there when I arrived said they liked it, and that they liked my earrings. I said I felt like it was too revealing because it's got a lower neckline than my usual polos; one of the girls told me I was just trying to make better tips. I laughed and acted like I was going to pull my shirt open ... because at that point I didn't realize the buttons were real snaps, I thought they were just decorative, so imagine my surprise when I pulled my shirt open in front of a bunch of coworkers. :) Luckily, it's only a couple inches' worth of an opening, and my bra was black anyway, and they were all women, so it wasn't too embarrassing.

A little while later, someone else arrived. She and I sort of got off on the wrong foot anyway; she took something I said as being snotty rather than expressing admiration. Anyway, we've been mostly okay now, but not overly friendly. So I'm standing next to her and she turns around, takes one look at me, and says "WHOA." I laughed and asked what, and she said "Your shirt is really ...(vague GIANT TITTIES gesture)". I forget what else she said, but it made me all self-conscious.

I asked three different people if they thought my shirt was inappropriate before I thought ... why the fuck was I doing that? The shirt isn't low-cut; you can't see even a hint of cleavage. I admit that the rouching and sparkly buttons between the boobs do draw a bit of attention--but it's nothing obscene. There's minimal skin showing, it's not tight across the bust, it's not sheer fabric. It's a goddamn black cotton polo with sparkly fucking buttons.

Why was I letting myself get hung up on it? I have boobs, fairly large ones. They're the same size regardless of if there are sparkly buttons between them or not. I would wear this shirt around my grandmother, my father, and anyone else. So why was I letting this one chick's snarky comment make me feel uncomfortable and like I was being "bad"? Why was I walking around feeling like I should slump and try to minimize myself? Why was I engaging in any sort of body shame?

Still, I have a nagging feeling that the managers aren't going to approve. That wasn't helped by a random, drunken-sounding phone call from a different coworker, saying happy birthday and she thought I looked hot. So what do you all think? Is this inappropriate? Am I going to offend lower middle-class people who come in to a chain restaurant? Maybe scar some poor innocent children out for chicken strips? Will my Chesticles of Doom bring about the end of BigChainRestaurant? Or is this chick just jealous because her funbags are currently a dairy center?

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And I'm so freaking amused by my book selection, I've taken a photo and labeled it. If you're bored, you can click on the picture to see all the labels.

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I started working on unpacking another box. Yes, I've lived here since August, STFU. :)

And this is like Christmas! I found a lipstick I had forgotten was in existence--it took me a good ten minutes to remember where/why the hell I had it. I don't wear lipstick! I mean, I went through a crazy makeup phase a few years ago, and I bought two "long wear" lipsticks, and then a handful of 99 cent ones (NYC at WalMart). This is a Mary Kay lipstick. I remembered it cost about $14, but it took me ages to remember that I'd bought it from my aunt, sort of out of guilt.

And then there's this ratty old shoebox, taped carefully shut, and full of something rattling and heavy. I couldn't even being to fucking guess what's in here. Holy shit, it's all my perfumes!

And at the bottom of another box, my fridge magnets--including my ultra-classy Vegas dice picture frame. In that frame is the only damn thing in Vegas I found with my name spelled right on it: a business-card sized hooker ad handed out on the street. My mom and grandma loved seeing that on the fridge of my old apartment. Oh yes. I am made of class.

****

An hour later ..... this is why it takes me so damn long to get anything done. I'm so easily distrac .... look! A squirrell!

Seriously though, I have a habit of ending up reading a book I haven't read in a while, or looking up a fact something reminded me off while unpacking, or whatever. Usually the book thing. The particular time, it's the book of The Princess Bride. And yep, I still fucking hate the book. Buttercup's an idiot, Westley's sort of a douchebag, and generally I just don't like it. Going back on the bookshelf for another nine years, at which point I'll probably forget what I hate it so much and read it again and be just as pissed off!

****

I've been 27 for 59 minutes now.

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Does anybody else find this dude's voice supremely fucking annoying? The guy doing the voice-over, not the "husband". Their current commercials are all about carbonara, and every time I hear this pipsqueaky voice I want to hit my television and never visit Olive Garden again.

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I ramble. My adviser must now think I'm a fucking loon.
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And I'm not sure why. Other than possibly just lack of sleep. Night before last, we were having crazy wind gusts--and I like wind chimes. The noise didn't bother me, but apparently was bothering my dog, who kept snorting and walking across my head. And then last night ... I couldn't sleep. Felt wide awake. Finally at some point, probably around 4:30, I fell asleep watching "Angel".

And naturally, I'd forgotten to set my alarm, so I slept through my classes. Now I'm awake; it's snowing; my dad is cranky at me; I have no food except popcorn; and I just generally feel like curling up on my couch and crying. Actually, that's not accurate. I feel like curling up on my couch and staring off into the distance aimlessly.

Instead, I'm going to fend off my fat cat while eating popcorn for a late breakfast, and then go meet with my "adviser" who I've never spoken to before so I can get a four digit code and register for spring classes, the prospect of which just depresses me right now.

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Whichever way this goes, part of me is going to be disappointed.

My friend who was thinking about moving in is still thinking about it; she has another option she's considering too. So at this point, it's up to her. If she wants to move in, awesome! My expenses will be cut in half! If she doesn't want to move in, awesome! I can still run around in nothing but my earrings!

I'm really warming to the idea, though. It might be nice to have company. It'd certainly be nice to have the extra money. And maybe I'd be a little more organized if I had to keep my shit straight instead of throwing it on the floor.

She hasn't come to look at the house yet; before she does, I have quite a bit to do. For example, I want to move my bed into the other bedroom. I think. I'm not sure why I chose the one I did; I think the other one is actually a little bigger. Certainly my furniture will fit better in there. I do feel oddly squirmy about it because it's at the front of the house, rather than the back, which means my neighbors will be walking by my bedroom window. I didn't think about it when I moved it, buy maybe that's why I put my bed in the other room. Obviously I have shades on the windows, but it still makes me feel odd.

But if I'm going to have a roommate I pretty much have to move into the other room--the way my current bedroom is set up I can't fit my bed, dresser, vanity, and bookshelf into it without blocking a window, heater vent, or closet. And the potential roomie has less stuff than me. But of course I don't want to have to come look at the place and then have her move in and have my room have changed, so I'll need to be working on that. Along with a million other things.

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.. but there are so many blogs out there that I cannot stomach reading no matter how great the content might be. If the blogger can't bother to capitalize, or use punctuation, or occasionally break up a giant paragraph with a line break, chances are I won't be reading more than the first few lines of the first post. If you use possessives instead of plurals on a regular basis, I might stick around, but not if it's a permanent fixture.

But really little things bother me too. For example, I keep coming across blogs that use "ya" instead of "yeah". "Ya" belongs with "how ya doin?", not with "Yeah, I'm good." I admit this is a nit-picking thing. It's being filed under "stupid things that bother me". But it drives me nuts.

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Girl #1 read "Skinny Bitch" and totally bought all the crap in there. Girl #2, who apparently is crazy vegan, is going on and on about how great it is. I kept my mouth shut about that. I just mentioned to the first girl that she needs to be careful with combining her foods to make sure she gets all the necessary proteins and fats. Girl #2 haughtily cuts me off with, "That's a myth."

If she had just said something stupid, I might not have snapped at her. But she said something stupid AND was rude. And I snapped at her. "No. I'm studying nutrition, and it's not a myth. There are certain fats and proteins your body can't make. I'm not saying it can't be done on a vegan diet, just that it's hard."

She gave me a nasty look and ignored me for the rest of the night. Oh well. It's not my fault she's stupid. Which I say not because she's vegan; I say it because her attitude about it sucks.

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Those who can count, and those who can't.

Apparently, I fit into the second category, because when I took my change in to the bank today, I had $74. I figured there'd be a little variance, because I didn't count the pennies. But I didn't have 900 pennies, so apparently I just can't count at all. At least the error was in my favor! My big fat credit card payment will go through will room to spare. And what I made tonight will keep my cable and internet on tomorrow. And what I make tomorrow will put gas in my car and food in my fridge, and what I make Thursday will keep my electricity on. And after that ... well, after that some other financial issue will strike, but one thing at a time. :)

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Bath & Body Works Twisted Peppermint stuff smells awesome. It makes me feel all happy. Hopefully I haven't put on so much that my customers gag. :)

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Trying to fall asleep, and I out of the blue realize my spinning copper sun ornament isn't out front anymore. In fact, the branch it was hanging on isn't there anymore either. I wonder what the maintenance people did with MY damn ornament when they pruned the tree. Fuckin' fuckers.
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