I got over the cold from my last post -- in record time for me, in fact! -- and then on my way to work I stopped at my dad's work. I was still angry with him, and I stormed out of his office and directly into a steel beam. My first concussion!

I knew that working two jobs, especially the kind of hours and the kind of conditions in a haunted house, was going to wear me down. So I started drinking extra water, eating more produce, getting as much sleep as I could. I really tried to take care of myself.

And I got sick anyway. Godfreakingdammit.

This is a Sponsored Post written by me on behalf of NMEDA. All opinions are 100% mine.

I hope this doesn't come across as insensitive, but I've always wondered where people with disabilities get cars they drive with hand pedals, etc. I've never seen a dealership for them, or advertisements for them. And I didn't know about NMEDA, a non-profit organization that promotes safer transportation for the disabled. They don't sell anything themselves; instead they certify dealers to offer safe vehicles that meet National Highway Traffic Safety Administration Guidelines. Additionally, their Quality Assurance program is THE nationally recognized accreditation program for the Adaptive Mobility Equipment Industry.

I've never been a caregiver for someone with a disability, but my mom works as a CNA, so I've heard her talk about some of the difficulties, especially regarding transportation. I know she's cared for a lot of elderly people who had lost their independence because they had no transportation; it's nice to know there's an organization like NMEDA who can help people in those situations. It's especially nice because I know there are plenty of unscrupulous people who would sell vehicles personally or over the Internet, and those vehicles may not be 100% safe. It's difficult enough to judge if an average vehicle is safe, or if you're being ripped off; I can only image how difficult it would be to try to discern if an adapted vehicle is safe or not.

I'm getting more and more angry with him. Not about the fact that he won't help me with my trip -- I told him I could do it without financial help, and I can. But I'm pissed off that he's trying to control me! He started out by asking if I was sure I wanted to do this with the "terrorist activity" in Europe; when I said yes he interrogated me about why, and said I shouldn't go alone and that I would be a target. Because apparently anyone walking down the street in London would know and/or care I'm American?

And then when I told him it was what I wanted to do, he said "Then you are as stupid as I thought. Goodbye." Then the next time he started berating me about being irresponsible, and asking why I didn't save the money and be ahead for once.

So basically, he tried to logic me out of it, then he tried to scare me; then to undermine me and convince me I'm too stupid to handle it; and then he moved on to trying to use money as leverage. Wonder what he'll try next.

This is a Sponsored Post written by me on behalf of Geile Leon. All opinions are 100% mine.

When my father was berating me about my trip to England, he started listing all sorts of places closer by that I haven't been to, and asked why I didn't go there instead. He doesn't know the trip is centered around a certain band -- he'd be even more pissed! I just shrugged and said I'd never really been interested in anywhere near home.

Although I do have to admit it's slightly tempting to take a more luxurious vacation somewhere close by. I could go a couple of states away and for around $300 spend two nights at the Hilton Promenade at Branson Landing or Hilton Branson Convention Center Hotel. They have this "Fall In The City" package that includes show tickets, dinner, attractions, etc. Or there's a shopping package, and they do have the Tanger Outlet Mall there, and god knows I love to shop. I could run away to Missouri for a few days and spend all my spare cash, not worrying about pinching pennies or train fares or how to pay rent when I got back. I could go to lakes and theaters and museums and still be in my little American comfort zone.

Too bad I already have a plane ticket. And a couple of concert tickets. And an obsession. Oh, who am I kidding, I wouldn't take Branson over England. But it does look like a fun place if you don't have an obsession with Morten Harket.

One of our managers at the restaurant was killed in a car wreck last week. I didn't know him well; he was new, and I'd only worked with him a handful of times. Once the initial shock passed, I wasn't very upset, until I read in the newspaper that the cops suspected alcohol was involved.

My father is getting married.

This is a Sponsored Post written by me on behalf of Boost Mobile. All opinions are 100% mine.

I never understood what people were talking about when they said Facebook was an addictive timesuck. And then I got a Facebook account, and now I check it incessantly, from home and from my phone. Even though mobile Internet is expensive. I can't help myself! I love it! And Boost Mobile has a monthly fee for all the Facebooking your face can handle--so I can send pictures of every stupid road sign I see to my wall to annoy, I mean amuse, all my friends. And I can Twitter every random thought I have, because I know thrilling my deliberations on life are. Or, if I'm being responsible, I can do updates for the company I'm doing social media work for. Yes, I get paid to Twitter. *cyber high-five*

And then, when I inevitably forget to pay my bill because I'm a blonde, I can use their Re-Boost options to pay online, or in person, or even with a text from my phone. They have automatic payments too, although I personally forget those are coming out of my account and end up with ridiculous bank fees.

I realize that at some point, in the far distant past, I didn't have a cell phone. And then I had a phone but not text messaging. And then text messaging, but not internet. Then I got internet on my Blackberry and that was it for me. Oh, I tried a couple of times to turn off my mobile internet service, but eventually the craving for Facebook or my e-mail got me. Hello, my name is [redacted], and I am a mobile internet addict.

I'm never having a 401k again! At least not until I have a Real Proper Job. Having one now is just so much torture. I can't get my money unless I quit, but of course if I quit I'll have to spend a chunk of said money on bills because I quit! Gah! My life would be so much easier if I didn't have this overwhelming obsession with a-ha.