If it's a broken part, replace it. Well, if it's a broken heart, then face it.
My purse could kill a small animal, I think.
Newest casualty: my sunglasses. God, come ON. Pulled them out this morning... and they'd snapped, right at the bridge. Mmm. Current location: the trashcan under my desk. At least this gives me an excuse to go out and spend 15% of my paycheck this weekend.
I slept way too much yesterday. I went home after work and took a 3 and 1/2 hour nap. On top of that, I actually fell asleep at the same time as always. I ate no dinner... that might have something to do with it. Slightly-related topic: I'm also back to 110 pounds. *rolls eyes* Freaking stick.
I had yet another "going back to school" dream... probably the third or fourth I've had this week. This one was quite notable for the sheer amount of insanity that my mind produced. Semi-normal things: packing my clothes (much nicer than in real life--extra-cute underwear!), deciding what to wear, talking to my LI's former LI on AIM, holding said LI's hand secretly while they were holding someone else's hand. Not-normal things: Indiana Jones, a Cherokee horse (I don't even know what that means), hitting random people over the head with guitars and stealing their iPods, hobbits (or Reid? Debatable.), Charlie from Lost, nudity, parents in gratuitous face-paint, fat-burning pills, and helicopter rides. Like... what the hell? My dream-self is on crack.
Amy Winehouse's CD "Back to Black" is pretty friggin' sweet. If any of you are fans of "Rehab," I highly suggest a purchase. Mmm. So funky. So old-school. I'm proud to nearly-share a name with her. No, no, no. *dances slightly in chair*
I'm feeling much better this morning, if you couldn't tell by the complete ADD-ness of the above topics. I'm very hyper, very giggly, and prone to losing focus at any moment. And it's 8:30 in the morning. Hee. I guess I was kind of taken care of, for a change, yesterday. It did help. Halp. DO WANT. *Fucking lolcats*... I'M IN UR AIMBOX, STEALIN UR SYMPATHEEZE. Ya, RLY.
I'm going to go back to pretending I know what I'm doing with this SQL code and getting this Boardmaker application out to people at the rehab centers while simulataneously listening to the most offensive podcast ever devised. Timothy James Henson is the love of my life. I need to be drugged now, please.
Are the details in the fabric?
Are the things that make you panic?
Are your thoughts result of static cling?
--A
Newest casualty: my sunglasses. God, come ON. Pulled them out this morning... and they'd snapped, right at the bridge. Mmm. Current location: the trashcan under my desk. At least this gives me an excuse to go out and spend 15% of my paycheck this weekend.
I slept way too much yesterday. I went home after work and took a 3 and 1/2 hour nap. On top of that, I actually fell asleep at the same time as always. I ate no dinner... that might have something to do with it. Slightly-related topic: I'm also back to 110 pounds. *rolls eyes* Freaking stick.
I had yet another "going back to school" dream... probably the third or fourth I've had this week. This one was quite notable for the sheer amount of insanity that my mind produced. Semi-normal things: packing my clothes (much nicer than in real life--extra-cute underwear!), deciding what to wear, talking to my LI's former LI on AIM, holding said LI's hand secretly while they were holding someone else's hand. Not-normal things: Indiana Jones, a Cherokee horse (I don't even know what that means), hitting random people over the head with guitars and stealing their iPods, hobbits (or Reid? Debatable.), Charlie from Lost, nudity, parents in gratuitous face-paint, fat-burning pills, and helicopter rides. Like... what the hell? My dream-self is on crack.
Amy Winehouse's CD "Back to Black" is pretty friggin' sweet. If any of you are fans of "Rehab," I highly suggest a purchase. Mmm. So funky. So old-school. I'm proud to nearly-share a name with her. No, no, no. *dances slightly in chair*
I'm feeling much better this morning, if you couldn't tell by the complete ADD-ness of the above topics. I'm very hyper, very giggly, and prone to losing focus at any moment. And it's 8:30 in the morning. Hee. I guess I was kind of taken care of, for a change, yesterday. It did help. Halp. DO WANT. *Fucking lolcats*... I'M IN UR AIMBOX, STEALIN UR SYMPATHEEZE. Ya, RLY.
I'm going to go back to pretending I know what I'm doing with this SQL code and getting this Boardmaker application out to people at the rehab centers while simulataneously listening to the most offensive podcast ever devised. Timothy James Henson is the love of my life. I need to be drugged now, please.
Are the details in the fabric?
Are the things that make you panic?
Are your thoughts result of static cling?
--A