Yeilding is for Quitters!

Hello, world!

Today is day two of Jon withdrawls. I know, I know, so typical teenage girl, to talk about how much she misses her boyfriend, who's only been gone for two days. "But we're in love!" Classic, predictable, and totally stereotypical. I get it. Now lick my twat.

Day One wasn't so good. Because I feel paragraphs that flow with a logical order are overrated, here's some numbers with stuff written next to them:

1. He called me at work in the morning to say that he was leaving, he loved me, I'm wonderful (let the awwwwwwing commence), and he'll miss me. So, that was nice.
2. Boring day at work (story of my life).
3. "Grease" rehearsal. Not as grueling as the rehearsal when we danced for three hours straight, which, might I add, I'm still sore from. So, that was nice too.
4. Needed Kool-Aid. Drove by Jericho's house, but no one was home. So, my quest for Kool-Aid was over.
5. On the way back I ran out of gas three blocks away from a gas station.
6. In the process of pulling to the side of the road, I hit a mailbox. Damn mailboxes. That sucker was protruding from the curb WAY more than should be legal, or at least ethically okay. At any rate, the mailbox was unharmed. The mirror on the passenger side of my car, however, didn't fare as well. In fact, it's currently hanging from some wires. Poor thing.
7. Managed to drive the remaining three blocks (two of them were downhill, thank God) to a gas station, where twenty dollars only bought me a quarter of a tank. I hate my life.
8. Saw "Live Free or Die Hard," a Bruce Willis- having action flick where Willis takes on a fighter jet, a helicopter, and a super-hot nerd... okay, internet terrorist. So, an angry nerd. Doesn't make him less attractive. My friends made fun of me for the mailbox incident. It raised my spirits considerably.


DAY TWO: (today.... elipses....)

Boring day at work. However, something nice just happened. Like, as I was writing this. Jon called from Minnesota! He's such a romantic freak. I answered the phone and this was him: "Hello, I'm calling from Minnesota, I heard there was this absolutely beautiful secretary who works there..." I realized who it was and called him a punk, but it made me happy. Like, rediculously happy. Giddy, even, which probably makes me a romantic freak too.

.giggle.

In other news, I've been thinking of future low-glamour jobs, which for some reason are really glamourous, to get me through college.

1. Lounge singer. Don't hate. Altos!
2. Hot Dog Vendor, or some other sort of street merch vendor.
3. Open up a shop in Chinatown. The fact that I'm not Asian is irrelevant.

The end! :)