The only graduation song I need.
So, the race is won and what not. I beat the American education system with my small freckled fist like the boss I was born to be. Hilariously, the day before graduation the arts building caught fire because of the decrepit heating system. It was saved, no extensive books. But I felt Alice Cooper would be appropriate. Now I can focus on making money, going to Maine and introducing another state to my awesomeness.
On a related note to making money because I'm poor as fuck, popcorn is now a food group to me. My pyramid sort of looks like ramen over popcorn over sugar with a caffeine base. I forgot to eat before work so I came home, popped a bag and am chilling out to the Venture Bros. with it while Gidget complains about her lack of sex. She went into heat and apparently is heart broken that I put Biscuit in mom's room. Poor guy was wiped out. And walking funny. I thought he could use a break.
Hilariously, Gidget doesn't totally understand mating, so when Biscuit slows down she tries to take the top position. I don't think she knows it doesn't work that way.
Its almost Christmas. In case you didn't know. I'm stoked to the max. No idea what I'm getting, really, but everyone is home and getting along. There's a ton of cookies and macaroni and cheese. There will be bacon and meat. And cookies. And bacon. I've been listening to my random Christmas songs, like Here Comes Son Goku and what not.
H&M is great. The best job so far. Though tonight was slow and boring, I won't complain because I'm making moneys. The people are nice, the work is decent and the customers are better than Forever 21. However, those last minute bitches who like to mess up my perfect racks piss me the fuck off. Don't come into my store 10 minutes before closing, flip clothes over the rack and not even buy something. I also don't want to hear you bitch that a seven dollar dress doesn't come in your size, you angry moo cow. BITCH. This is not Torrid.
Which is horrible of me, but that woman was a level 10 narcissistic douche. I apologize we don't carry your size, I do, but don't take it out on my racks. Just because I get paid to work there doesn't mean you get to treat my store like a fucking free for all. Also, keep you damn kids out of my displays or I swear I'll loosen the mannequins from the bases enough to scare the shit out of them. Inattentive parenting dicks.
Rambling done. Good job is still good.
Sarah told me recently I don't talk about David all that often. Which is true. Why? Because if the world discovered just how freaking awesome he is, someone may try to take him. And that would mean I'd have to fight a bitch. He really is the best man in the world. Sweet, funny, smart, witty. It totally helps he thinks I'm beautiful and tells me so every day. And that he believes that my craziness is what makes me epic.
So, I try not to talk about him not just to rub how fucking great he is into my friends' faces, but also because I fear becoming that girl whose always ranting about her boyfriend. I now he's awesome. He knows I know. Fuck the world, we make our own rules. I don't want to go on facebook and do the 'I miss you baby' 'My sweetie is so cool. Can't breathe without him. Its like Stockholm but more romantic' or 'I love my boyfriend because he hasn't filed a restraining order yet, and even when he does, it won't stop me'. Those girls aggravate me to no end. I can live without David. Its perfectly human.
But I really don't want to. I think that's more important. We would survive without each other just fine, but neither of us wants to face that world. Missing pieces and whatnot.
Anyway, Goodnight world. Popcorn is gone so its time for dreams.