my peeps The Boys
RaJ
Tayster
factory_peasant
Surfer Mitch
Scared Bunny
Jake
Hof
my peeps The Girls
Sass
Pajiba
Tristan Roy
Radiohead blue eyes,
crooked teeth,
intellectual,
goofball,
slacker,
socialist.
Stuff and Nonsense
You LOVE Me THIS much
What Came Before
Steff
Crystal
Lyvvie
Cate
OEN
--spared--
Rachel
bitchy
Dlisted
Janet Charlton
MPH
Go Fug Yourself
the pretty pictures
Owen Billcliffe
No Traces
Sam Javanrouh
the professionals blog
Matthew Good
Margaret Cho
Rick Mercer
Tony Pierce
Whil Wheaton
Waiter
shameless self promotion
About Me
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 License.
2005.05
2005.06
2005.07
2005.08
2005.09
2005.10
2005.11
2005.12
2006.01
2006.02
2006.03
2006.04
2006.05
2006.06
2006.07
2006.08
2006.09
2006.10
2006.11
2006.12
2007.01
2007.02
2007.03
2007.04
2007.05
2007.06
2007.07
2007.08
2007.09
2007.10
2007.11
2007.12
2008.01
2008.02
2008.03
2008.04
2008.05
2008.07
2008.09
2008.10
2009.01
2010.01
2010.03
2010.05
if you tolerate this then your children will be next
:
Blogging is a vanity pursuit. Bloggers write to get comments, make friends and get page hits. Unless you're me. I seem to do it to play with page colours and drive people away from the site. I have nothing too exciting to write about. I'm waiting for the building people to come by and change the apartment locks. This week is a good time, two weeks ago if they had succeeded in changing the locks - I would have been locked out of my apartment. Oh so much fun.
Everyone tells me they don't know how I can live in my apartment. It's essentially a box with a seperate bathroom and 2 closets. It's small and it's full of my stuff. I'm not as much of a pack rat as I used to be but I still have a lot of stuff. I did get around to cleaning out that storage closet this weekend. Pulled a couple of muscles doing it too, but hey - I've got my living room back.
My horoscope siad I'd be doing something unusual and daring soon. I'm hoping it's right, I need a change of pace. Work isn't killing me now, it's just boring me into mediocrity and I know all the television watching isn't helping but I'm far removed from the social scene with my new hours and lack of seeing anybody. Funny how a social scene deteriorates when you're not there 24/7. My popularity has again died. It could be worse, I could have the cold that everyone else has - but I'm starting to think that it's a kissing disease and since no one's kissing me I'm immune.
I've noticed at work that there's this younger girl who has old lady hair. Her hair looks like it's drier than the sahara. I's not even over processed because it's not good looking enough to have been dyed, it may be suffering severe heat damage but I'm not asking. I only notice because she's one of those girls that has tonnes of hair, that she throws over the back of her chair like it's a coat or something. I have no idea why someone would grow their hair that long if they can't stand it. Honestly cut the stuff the way that makes you happy instead of torturing it into a sad parody of mannequin hair that's so dull and lifeless that even the most vain lady would choose to wear a wig over sporting that hair. That grey, limp, frazzled, unhappy and scarily old looking hair.
Done now. Tomorrow, maybe, the men of the workplace and their take on the PCed PB&J Day.
Keep Blogging.
ghost writer Ambrrrr at 11:58 AM