Feisty. Or Something.

You know, I'm lying around in drawstring pj bottoms and a little t-shirt thingie, and it occurs to me that I'm starting to lose weight. Work got tough there for a bit, and you know what I do every single day? I stock a snack bar. With Cheetohs, Kit Kats, Coffee Crisps, and worse. Like doing battle with psychic demons every day.

Nonetheless, I've been eating surprisingly well this week despite the stress-inducing pace of present at work. Yay for me and my waist. I'd been successfully maintaining for a couple weeks, but now I'm officially making progress.

And today I bought my new spectacles. If all goes right they're mine in the afternoon! They're hot, man. They're the kind of specs I wished I had the confidence to wear when I was younger. Now I can't wait to debut them. That's so me now. I'm getting bolder all the time. Hell, my picture was in the paper for work and now everyone comes in and says, "Hey, I know you".

Working in an anti-social job was so wrong for me. What was I thinking? The olde bosses asked me that, too. "Uh, Steff, y'know..." I mean, when you're social, you're social, you know? But that's like making a late sleeper work the early bird shift. It fucks with your mojo. Shure fucked with mine. What can I say? The job had its serious pluses, too, and I'll always be proud to own DVDs of MY work!

I can't wait to wear the glasses to the job. I guarantee you: a week of "New glasses, Steff?" I'm gonna love it. I suck up attention like a sponge on a spill, baby.

Okay, it's 8:36, and I'm already within one glass of the bottom of a bottle of red. But it's so tasty. And I still have vodka.

I've decided that I'm celebrating tonight. I'm not sure what it is I'm celebrating, but I know it's good. So, you know, on faith I have decided to take the bold and daring risk of indulging in far too much wine too early in the evening. But look at my stunning grammar & spelling! And I'm NOT using Word, so there.

Great, still high strung and perfectionist when I'm drunk. Hmm. Tell that to the teetering towers of dirty dishes.

But fuck that. New spectacles! Mrrreow! Ha. No, seriously, though. It's been a trying week and I've had a good day. I'm happy about that. I'm coping better than I would have imagined had I truly known the scope of all that I was entering when I took this job. I mean, who wants to actually have to WORK for a living, you know? But I like it, which is the fucked up Gorey-esque thing of it all. It's gleeful in a dark and demented kind of way, and I get to interact regularly with 3 year olds for 6 hours a day. Yeah, I fuckin' dig it.

Now we enter summer... the slow season. 09 days to the end of this madness, and 11 days till the start of Slow.

Yippee.

And I have new specs. Mreow.