October 10, 2008

I don't love anything, not even Christmas

Sleeping a full 11 hours last night has only sufficed to make me want to sleep all the time.
I've had a nosebleed every day/night since three days ago. Maybe that's why I'm so tired? I'm anemic apparently. Or about to suffer a potentially fatal aneurysm/hemorrhage.
That isn't even ironic.

I've also been working overtime since some other chick called out and I had to stay later and only slept 4 hours the night before due to poor decision-making/late night.
Tell me, it is SO evil to go on a date because you want a free meal? Since going out for lunch on my breaks is adding up, I don't have a lot of time/cash for two meals out.

Ok, you don't have to say it. I know it is.

Technically it was not free, considering I had to listen to the dude prattle on and on about all sorts of dull things that late twenty-something urbanites concern themselves with. Including traveling all over everywhere but Europe because apparently, Europe is "amateur" as far as traveling Americans go, and sushi snobbery, and I don't actually remember a whole lot of it because I was desperately trying to suppress the hypoglycemic attack I was having at the moment while the waitress was taking her sweet time with my order. Fainting on the table would've been an appropriate gesture to how I was feeling at the moment.
He did have some pretty peepers, though. And seemed like a genuinely nice person who offered to put me in a cab home since he kept me out late and I had to wake up early the next day. And I was right- that jacket does suit him well. I mean, he got a date out of it, so I suppose that pays for itself.

I'm bored/briefly amused all the time with most males who grew up in the tri-state (sub)urban area. Big ol NEVERMIND.



I'm going to keep a tally of digits my work procures me (I blurred for privacy purposes. Oh, don't mind my to-do list for my day off). Because honestly it's the only interesting part of the day and makes shifts go by so much quicker (it's more likely that some dude will give me his digits by trying to sell him something, than going to some bar and just looking cute, apparently), aside from elaborately high-fiving my manager whenever either of us makes a big sale. Mostly he loves working with me because I make the highest sales and he's all about that.

Yesterday I was helping out a young lad pick out a graphic tee. I went to fetch a larger size and came back to the fitting rooms where he left the curtain partway open to reveal some major gunnage and an impressive upper body muscular system. I immediately blushed. I think he made fun of my American Apparel high-waisted matte lame leggings. I figured, what guy recognizes labels like that who isn't gay or works there. He wrote down his website/number as I was ringing him up and made me promise to look at his work. He's a fashion photographer. SLASH male model.
OH that's why you have an eye for labels and that's why you look really ridiculously good with a shirt off.

Big however, there is one comforting thing about the general injustice of the prevalent existence of models in my (our) face all the time:
A lot of times, they photograph way better than how they look in person.

I shouldn't talk trash though. I still don't have a life, really. I browse e-commerce sites in my free time. And think about doing things I want/need to do.
I need to downsize the things I carry around with me.


Here. Look at some owls. They're on a tshirt I like.

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