i'm trying really hard to be hungry for my mexican leftovers, but it's just not working.

i lie all the time at work. yeah, make the girls who work in an office, who barely feel like they work at a theme park and know nothing about it, answer the information line. yeah.

extension of above conversation:
katherine: i just won't eat veal. i can't stand the thought of eating a baby cow.
me: do you want to know why i won't eat veal?

i haven't turned in a thing for gender in the workplace yet.

but i find it interesting that in 1870, 97% of all secretarial jobs were filled by men. it was considered a man's job. 60 years later, 95% women. it is a woman's job. society is so weird.

what is better than driving around singing 'shout' by tears for fears at the top of our lungs with my brother, sharing a warm vanilla coke?

against all reason, i'm totally up for driving to marietta on sunday, getting there after 7pm and leaving again probably not much later than 12.

i hate working.

next week i work 57 hours.

i hate using the radio. no one ever 19's me when i ask. much less tells me their 39. :(

get up. go to work. drive home. watch friends. go to sleep. it's sickening.

i've really been considering getting a tattoo (again). but i'm torn between two ideologies: leave your body the way you found it, girl, who you trying to impress? vs. dude, use your body to express who you are, yeah.

it would be a simple, smallish spiral, probably black, i don't know where. (anyone know where hurts the least? ;) it represents change and growth. everyone who reads this knows that's pretty much my thing.

>{? is what you get if you try to type the paragraph tag with your fingers on the wrong keys. it's cute.

i think i know all 500+ employees in the operations department by name because i rearrange so much paper.

i really have probably the best job i could ask for right now. shut me up.

it's just having a job that i object to.

i want to start a thing where i take a picture of the sky every night. i was thinking about creating a diary. stop me now.

why do people feel the need to entertain quiet people who simply want to get their work done? you don't need to 'draw me out of my shell,' you don't need to 'make me feel like one of the gang.' leave me alone. for god's sake, leave my chair alone.

it makes me sad that my boss has worked at 6 flags since she was 15 and still doesn't make enough there to not have to take a second job.

jobs fucking make me sad.

if i go back to marietta, i'm going to want to stay.

three months.

that's enough.