everyday i'm shufflin

2:34 AM

Let's talk about how I woke up this morning.  It went something like this:

8 am alarm ->snooze.
10 am alarm ->ignore.  I may have set another alarm in my dreams.  I'm not sure.
12:10 pm ->text message from Jed: "Your getting a call from Dan if your not here in the next minute."
[[my shift starts at 12]]
12:11 pm ->throw on bra, shirt, pants, and deodorant all while shoving a toothbrush down my throat.
12:12 pm ->grabs some shoes and sprints to work.  Arriving there at 12:20ish.

Yeah, that happened.  I could list any number of reasons for this going down, like that my roommate slept in just as late, or that I was up until 3:00 am blog stalking and paper writing.  But I still slumbered into PM territory.  And, more importantly, past my shift.  I don't want to be that girl that's late for everything, but punctuality was never my forte.  Let's just say that, in a way, it was a fitting way to cap off these two weeks of school hell.

I'm terribly excited for Thanksgiving.

In other disorderly news:

Minus four pieces of cheese, two sticks of butter and a jar of mayonaise: this is all the food I own.

I had FOUR DOLLARS in my bank account until today.  Four.  So sad.  I've been avoiding buying groceries all week long.  Saying "it's been difficult" hardly describes it.  Though the paycheck ended up being terribly anticlimactic... as I realized that most of next week I gons be with the parentals for Turkey break.  But finally getting some Cheez-Its in my cupboard is going to be one glooooorious day.

Also, I cut my bangs.

Very poorly, I know.

Confession - I'm really horrible on my hair.  It's been wayyy too long since I've gotten a trim, and I have got more split ends than there are dollars Amurrica's in debt for.  So yesterday was a long day.  And when I'm tired, I kind of lean on my palm and run my hands through my hair a lot.  After seven or eight strokes through my bangs, my fingers pull at the gross ends and rip hairs out by the chunk.  I seriously couldn't touch it without grossing myself out.  So, in a fit of rage, I grabbed me a pair of ski-ssors and, like, chopped it all off.

Soyeahs.  I'm a little upset that I couldn't just be patient to have it all cut by someone who knows how, but at least now I can touch my own hair without dying a little inside at my poor hygiene.

Here's to the weekend.  And it's way too late for me to be forming coherent sentences.  For that, I apologize.

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  1. D: SMITTS! Don't die! For heavens sake, let me know if I can do anything!

  2. Beth, you are far too kind and generous. I will definitely hit you up if I'm in some serious need of a pick-me-up. But not the alcoholic kind.


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