condensed version of hoopla

I'm sick of boy issues, so I've been retracting. So has he. It's good. Because like I said to him "This is SUCH a bad idea." And he did agree. So what if he is an adulterus Phallus. His phallus (or his ass) is not quite as attractive as it once was. The tour is wearing on me and I am beginning to appreciate the walls between the rooms and silence and my own music.

I have an interview with the G on Friday. Damn, what am I doing?? Fucking job hoping.

I miss my friends. I don't know if my neatly planned future is going to go the way of my head or my heart. I miss my kitties. ALL my clothes are in balls between my clean clothes, random nail polish, cds, stinky shoes and beads. For the first time my personal disorganization has reached it's muddy hands into my work load. But I didn't drink or smoke tonight. **cough, cough**. And I still haven't bought those condoms. But I'm not sorry.

I am working on not appologizing for my body. For the zillions of stretch marks that have come of my years of depression. They might was well be fucking razor blade cuts.

I'm so tired. We have Friday off and Sunday off. Oh, I can't wait. It will be nice to have a few days away. I think I will get a hair cut and dye it again (oooo those mid-20 greys) and hang out in uptown and hopefully get to go out with j m & s & b...? B has been iming me. I am a damned flirt. :) It's sad that I have to be attracted to someone I once thought a clossal geeker.

How old am I again?

In case you are wondering, I am still smiling. The effexor is still working. I am still at wonder with the world. I still love anyone for reading this. What could be better? (fucking)