Payday?

So, usually I like to rant and rave and act witty in this blog. But I'm compelled to confess to someone, something, anything that I'm scared out of my mind.

I'm broke. I'm watching my money disappear and I'm scared shitless.

That's all.

Honestly?

Okay let me just say this: Most people are hypocrites at one point or another. However, it's the blatant statements and oversights that really 'grinds my gears.'

When a person who's personality is most readily identified by crankiness, rudeness and self pity- it makes me laugh when they have public epiphanies about how other people choose to express themselves. If I'm having a bad day, let's say, I will most likely say so. Will it last forever? No. Will I let it ruin my life? No. So, what's so wrong in expressing my frustration? Oh that's right, there's nothing wrong with it. If you want to be happy and blissful and la-ti-fuckin-da for a day, go for it! Go to town. But don't criticize my bad day. If you ask people: "Hey, what word best describes Meg?" I can guarantee it's not Peppy or Cheerful. I have cheerful moments, but mostly I'm a sarcastic lady with a sharp tongue. So, if having a bad day makes me ungrateful, that means that a whole lotta shit in the whole entire world is unappreciated. Your one day epiphany doesn't mean jack shit. Sorry, but it just doesn't. You aren't holier than thou.

The End!

Hostess

So, I have started hostessing. Last night was the first night I actually got a hang of most everything. It was also the first night I got creepers.

There were these two men...I mean it... grown ass 40 year plus men. They were sitting at the table closest to the hostess stand. They un-apologetically were bug eyed staring at me and the other girl. They straight up called over their fellow mexican, a server, and asked him about my ASS! I'm white. I don't have ass. I was so offended. Had it been Johnny Toews, fine. Look at my ass. Ask the server about me. But if you're old enough to be my Dad, and rude enough to make me wanna barf...Get lost. I'm sorry, I feel you, I'm no ugly duck but come on! They were waiting for me and the other girl to get off work. WOW. Talk about RAPIST behavior. I made her come with me so I could take her to her car since she parked out front. I was like, oh, no you did not just sit here for two hours!

I think I better find a bodyguard at work. Which, you know, with my clear charm should be easy, right?

Employed or not Employed, that is the question.

I wonder if anyone else finds it strange that my "boss" isn't really letting me know whether or not I have a job on Monday. It's like, listen lady, I have a life to get to so if you could tell me what I should be doing with my Monday-Friday that'd be fuckin fantastic, thanks. I'm trying to start school, I just got a serving job and I'm still currently at SC. I need to know! *breaks in Petty song*

It's hard enough to manage my anxiety so, hello, get with it. The only potential good coming out of it is more time for school and less Fresh Beat Band.

Lazy? CHECK!

Well shit. It's been since September. Talk about laziness in blogging.

Since I turned 25, officially, I decided to change some things in life that weren't making me happy anymore. I lost some friends, I gained some friends. I got a job and I'm potentially losing a job. Besides that, I made the choice to go to beauty school. My mom constantly sings "Beauty school drop out..." at me. I hope I don't get purple hair like in Grease. Add on my amazing boyfriend and you've got the last few months!

Now as for lately...Lately is interesting. I decided last night that I would go tanning. I love the vitamin D and I was rewarding myself for a hard workout. 15 minutes you say? Why yes, I think that's suitable. Well, it wasn't. Within minutes of turning on I already thought, huh- kinda hot in here...I'll turn on the fan. Then my ass starting burning. I lifted up on my heels, but after a few seconds I realized I don't have the ab strength to pull off such a clever move. I had three minutes left. What's three minutes? I looked myself over after, satisfied that I didn't really get any color. Until halfway through the night my ass starting hurting! Burning like a fever! I got out of bed and pulled up my shirt...oh shit. Not only did I get color, I got one specifically. Red. Now, my ass is burned, my stomach is, my chest is. Glad I have a job interview today. That's gonna work out fabulously. Note to self? Ten fucking minutes next time.

Now, I get to try and shower/get dressed looking like a tomato. Oh, and with a lovely "red bump thing" on my forehead (according to the boy I watch.)

I'll part with some wisdom from the three year old:

"I'm WINNING! Well, sometimes my daddy says WINNING! and I just don't know why."

...the three year old's name is Charlie.