|word up, homey|. I got an e-mail from Delia*s that I just can't bring myself to delete. The three words that will be the death of me. Summer Shoe Sale. Almost as bad as...yeah...it just doesn't get any worse.
Sorry, I'm not up to my blogging standards. I'm still feeling a little misplaced, a little out-of-my-environment, if you will. I was complaining to my mom how I miss the Buzz, and she goes, geez, you've only been here two days. It's true though. I might have to go over to Oberlin to find some decent coffee-places. Coffeepeople. Mmm...coffee.
Anyway, today was my first day at work. It's not that bad working with the 'rents, in fact, it's actually good. Then again, this is only the first day. Seriously, though, it's great working with them, and I think it's because we all deal with different things and don't get in each other's way.
Tomorrow, I think, I get a break coz Dad goes to the hospital and does his surgeries. I got an appointment for a haircut, er, trim. Once again, I'm being tempted by the bob-devil to shorn my shoulder-length locks...buuuut...I'm not going to listen to it. I love my hair long, even though when I wake up, it looks like Pamela Anderson and Kid Rock nested in it the night before.
Movies! So many movies to see! And how depressing is this: YTMT is not, I repeat, not playing anywhere within a 30-mile radius of me. What the fuck, I live in a vacuum-sealed-black hole. Everything sucks.
...well, not everything. I'm not mondo-depressed (yet). My room is lookin' pretty snazzy -- and yes, I know that is only a word used by blue-rinsed 'do grannies and cheek-pinching aunts. It's a word we need to reclaim. That and dolemite.