So I'm still in retail hell. The rest of my life has fallen into complete shambles. For a couple of weeks I was living absolute darkness. The electric bill hadn't been paid in a while. Neither had the cable or phone bill. You know, I'm bitching but I've been really happy as of late. Looking forward to my future in NYC. Today however, I'm in a wretched mood. Like I want this mag thing to jump off, but I'm not in control.
Oh check this shit out...I got hit on while at retail hell. Some geeky older dyke asked me out for a beer. I said yes. We ended up making out. Her directness was a turn on. Directness always is. She's got no ass what so ever, but she's a good kisser. She's 36, and has her own psycho therapy practice. Gestalt therapy...whatever the fuck that means. I told her we're going to have sex, but I don't think that's going to happen. She is so not my type, and I'm coming to terms with the fact that I am a total lookist. And yet...and yet...I get bent when people are fucked up toward me on that same tip.
Christ, it's just a fucking job. Just make sure you get your fucking raise and your health insurance out of these insufferable twats.