Lunatics and Princesses

Just got back from work about a half hour or so ago. Got a lot accomplished; I guess that’s a good thing.

I told my dad about my tattoo last night.
I’m not dead.
He laughed really, really loud and then said that he liked it. Then he called me a dumbass for watching my back around him and sacrificing tank tops for six months.

Anyway, back to today. Made a sales call at some store on the East Side. It was dull but at least the basement was cool. Dad introduced me as he usually does, i.e. this is my daughter, blah blah blah. So the guy goes, all hearty and jovially, “Oh! Learning the tricks of the trade because she’s off from school this week! So what grade are you in now?”

Um.

So I told him I was a senior at Baker, and he asked if I knew his stepkids, and I’m all like, I’ve seen them in the halls and stuff…lol.

I don’t think he believed that I was a senior. Drama.

Now I’m kicking myself because I left my ULTRA FAVORITE blue hoody down at some job on the South Side. I have this sinking feeling that I’m never going to see it again.

Had this weird dream last night where Toby Maguire’s spine grew in backwards. Kirsten Dunst was sitting there all like, “Yeah! Cool! Go team!” and he was so in awe of her. Ugh. I should just see the damn Spiderman movie and get it over with already.

Which reminds me, I found this really cool mural of Spiderman down on the South Side. I’ll have to take Tom and Co. to go see it, it’s really cool.

I SO hope we have a thunderstorm.
..................................

Everybody and their fucking mother has a crotch rocket but me, and it's making me quite angry.

*glares at the lucky bastards with bikes*