So I'm staying up far past my bedtime, but I'm an exhibitionist, and compelled to share my life with the world. Or at least the online world. Or at least the online world of people who like to visit my blog.
Today Gabriel and I were accidentally matchy matchy. We were both in wife beaters and jeans. Although I hate the term wife beater when referring to an article of clothing, when I call them A-Shirts, no one knows what the hell I'm talking about, so I submit.
Now that I know that Danielle gets paid less than me, I hate her less.
I went to coffee with Mira on Saturday, which was glorious because (a) I did not flake out on her, (b) I actually really REALLY like Mira there's a reason she was my best friend in highschool and (c) not ditching out on her made me feel like less of a loser AND segued into my continuing dive bar tour with my sister. Laura and I explored the Rush Inn, which is dangerous because it's my great uncle Russell's bar. According to the bartender, we missed him by about ten minutes. Then we went to Callahan's. Fritz was there, but he was too drunk to recognize us, and this time we wisely chose NOT to make eye contact. I was sort of fucked up on pain pills so the night was extra fun.
Speaking of pain pills, when my mom picked me up from my surgery on Friday, we stayed downtown for a couple hours, and my face was seriously hurting. So she bought me a margarita. What a good mother.
She also gave me money to buy Simon the COOLEST TOY EVER because his birthday's coming up.
My grandma sent me a check as a graduation present, which means that this is one more month that I pay my bills. Which gives me ever so slightly more wiggle room in finding a better job. I think that I want to get a job at Trader Joe's. I'm gonna go by tomorrow.
My black eyes are fading and my face is a little less swollen, but I still look like an abuse victim.