Triage Time

Current Music: Pretty Pink Ribbon - Cake

Finished paste-up night down at the paper. Always sorta fun. Sean, of all people, offered me a ride home. That was. . . Unexpected to say the least. Before we left Anna pulled me aside to make sure he didn't work his "manly charms" on me. Because, everyone knows a depressed rebound girl is hot. Poor guy, it seems so much like he just wants people on the paper to accept him.

Bill was being really weird about the making fun of Jessica thing. He defends he a lot, which is kinda weird. Whatever though. I don't particularly care for Jessica but bashing on her isn't a required part of my day. Just heavily recommended.

Wrote a pretty good column for the paper on the last minute. I'm not too ashamed of it. I'm keeping myself a serial column called Ferreting Around. Has a nice little picture of me on top and everything. I kinda ranted about how much I hate my age group in this one. I'm just an angry person, I suppose.

I'm wearing my hobo gloves right now, which are awesome and warm. But, I'm not cold and it's kinda hard to type wearing them. Better. Seriously, those things impair fine motor movement worse than some types of codeine/aspirin I've been on.

My week has not picked up at all. You think after so much utter crap I would get some sort of karmonic reward for not killing myself. Nope. Just everyday monotony which may, or may not, be even worse than a bad day. I can't say anything explicitly bad happened today and but nothing even close to goodly came up.

Just crap. Utter shit and merde.

Blegh. I am becoming more and more cynical and bitter everyday.