New face for a new year
So, on New Year's Eve, my glasses broke. More accurately, I was kicked in the face by a drunk girl on a Las Vegas sidewalk. Total accident, but I need new glasses. I'm going, today, to my optometrist. Figure I may as well get my eyes checked out while I'm there. Insurance covers it. Right now I'm wearing an old back-up pair that aren't QUITE right, so in addition to the awesome head-cold I'm rocking, I get that cool "wearing someone else's glasses" nauseous feeling.
Getting new glasses kind of freaks me out. It's like..."please select a permanent facial feature from our show-room." I'm already kind of hyper-sensitive about my looks, lately, and now I'm having to try to pick out a new face. And I don't really have anyone to bring with me as a second opinion. Bah.
As for NYE, it was pretty good, despite the aforementioned face-kicking. Some folks bought me the worst/best hoodie in history, which we then put to immediate good use. Granted, I still have never really had a proper NYE kiss, despite some cheek-pecks which were pretty nice that year I was in Chico. My romantic luck seems to be getting worse. Que sera.
In other, other news, I begin my first accounting class on Monday. A two-year plan to get some skills, a better paying job, and a way out of Orange County. Just gonna start my life over at 32. No big deal. Chicks dig accountants, right? Oh, I'm thinking of rock stars. Chicks dig rock stars. Close enough.
Getting new glasses kind of freaks me out. It's like..."please select a permanent facial feature from our show-room." I'm already kind of hyper-sensitive about my looks, lately, and now I'm having to try to pick out a new face. And I don't really have anyone to bring with me as a second opinion. Bah.
As for NYE, it was pretty good, despite the aforementioned face-kicking. Some folks bought me the worst/best hoodie in history, which we then put to immediate good use. Granted, I still have never really had a proper NYE kiss, despite some cheek-pecks which were pretty nice that year I was in Chico. My romantic luck seems to be getting worse. Que sera.
In other, other news, I begin my first accounting class on Monday. A two-year plan to get some skills, a better paying job, and a way out of Orange County. Just gonna start my life over at 32. No big deal. Chicks dig accountants, right? Oh, I'm thinking of rock stars. Chicks dig rock stars. Close enough.