Everthings gonnabe alright.
This past weekend I bought a space heater for under my desk at work. Pre-space heater, I shivered violently for eight hours. Now with the toastiness that abounds my tooties, I struggle to stay awake. I imported the same 60 pictures twice this morning, which really only takes a minute--but I could not for the life of me remember if I had done it two minutes previous to that. I really thought I'd stop falling asleep while working after college, but it seems that's untrue. I guess I'd rather be content with my temperature to the point of extreme relaxation than dealing with the thought of frostbite at work.
Libby will not stop crying. It's no doubt because she's "hungry," but she's so fat I'm trying not to feed her so much. I have the FOR BAD KITTIES spray in my hand as we speak, but I feel guilty spraying the poor thing. I mean, it's irritating as hell, listening to her "meow...meow...meow" every three seconds, but what if she's saying "Mom, my eye is infected" or "Mom, you have a booger on your face"? And I'm spraying her for the precautionary statement? My God, I'm going to be an awful mother someday.
So, Super Bowl Sunday. Yay. I'm so excited for the Mares or whatever to play the Cubbies or something. I couldn't give a shit less about pro football, but you can bet I'll probably be drinking cheap beer on a couch somewhere, facing a tv, thinking about something important like whether they're going to kick Burke off Grey's Anatomy.
I keep trying my hand at saving money, but I think I'm getting worse at this. And then I go and do ridiculous things like get my teeth cleaned at the dentist and now I have THAT bill to pay. I mean, come now. When does this nonsensical nonsense end.
Does anyone else receive those letters from non-profit agencies that want your donations, their ploy being that they're going to give you 50 poorly-cut address labels with odd-looking ducks and what have you? I have several hundred very ugly address labels with no use for them as I can't afford stamps, let alone a donation for the non-profit agency that gave me the address labels to begin with. [In a sing-songy voice] I-Rony!
And if you say "you could have used the $18 you spent on a space heater and given it to the Support Veterans foundation," I say fuck you and your idea. Maybe they should have saved the paper they wasted for the ugly address labels and enclosed letter to the (unwed) "Mrs. Ashley Finnsted."
Libby will not stop crying. It's no doubt because she's "hungry," but she's so fat I'm trying not to feed her so much. I have the FOR BAD KITTIES spray in my hand as we speak, but I feel guilty spraying the poor thing. I mean, it's irritating as hell, listening to her "meow...meow...meow" every three seconds, but what if she's saying "Mom, my eye is infected" or "Mom, you have a booger on your face"? And I'm spraying her for the precautionary statement? My God, I'm going to be an awful mother someday.
So, Super Bowl Sunday. Yay. I'm so excited for the Mares or whatever to play the Cubbies or something. I couldn't give a shit less about pro football, but you can bet I'll probably be drinking cheap beer on a couch somewhere, facing a tv, thinking about something important like whether they're going to kick Burke off Grey's Anatomy.
I keep trying my hand at saving money, but I think I'm getting worse at this. And then I go and do ridiculous things like get my teeth cleaned at the dentist and now I have THAT bill to pay. I mean, come now. When does this nonsensical nonsense end.
Does anyone else receive those letters from non-profit agencies that want your donations, their ploy being that they're going to give you 50 poorly-cut address labels with odd-looking ducks and what have you? I have several hundred very ugly address labels with no use for them as I can't afford stamps, let alone a donation for the non-profit agency that gave me the address labels to begin with. [In a sing-songy voice] I-Rony!
And if you say "you could have used the $18 you spent on a space heater and given it to the Support Veterans foundation," I say fuck you and your idea. Maybe they should have saved the paper they wasted for the ugly address labels and enclosed letter to the (unwed) "Mrs. Ashley Finnsted."