Ruffles have Ridges

I quit smoking last Friday. I started again on Saturday. Seems I'm not a quitter.

Except at jobs, I quit those quite well.

I've been at work exactly 53 minutes and am ready to go home.

Everyone keeps asking, "what's that smell, is something burning?" It's me, I'm burning. I have an illegal space heater under my desk. I may burst into flames at some point, but at least my legs are toasty warm.

I fell on the stairs this morning. Going up, not down. I'm talented, what can I say. I was holding a diet coke and it went everywhere. Still it was manageable, except for the girl who kept screaming, "oh my god, are you all right? Are you sure you're ok?! Wow, that must have stung! Oh my god, you might have hurt your knees, are you sure you're ok??!"

Thanks.

The roof on my car is leaking. I'm not too happy about that.

With the right tools, any car can become a convertible.

I sold a pair of pink paisley socks on Saturday at Dillard's. I'm pretty proud of that as I tried to sell them to every single customer that came in that day. I'm sure most of the customers thought I was insane since I kept asking, "is this all, because we have some lovely pink paisley socks that would go perfectly with these giant underpants you're buying".

I spotted a little kitty cat behind the garbage can last night, and I was all, "here kitty, kitty" and bent down to get closer. Turns out it was a badger not a little kitty, kitty. I think it hissed at me and told me to burn in hell, so I ran because badgers are some scary ass animals. Isn't that what killed Old Yeller? I sure don't want to be locked in a shed and shot.

At least not this week.

2005-10-03 at 12:22 p.m.