i’m in a variety of moods tonight, thinking of how i need to meet new people, how i need to make a muncie trip soon and how much my 4th of July is going to suck.  i’m going to bed so i don’t have to contemplate this stuff now.

    I was like a high school girl getting ready for the prom.  Freshly showered: check.   Hip and cool yet individualisitc outfit: check.   Freshened breath: check.   Hair perfectly put in place: check.   Cologne: check.   Tanned skin: check.   I was ready to go to the comic shop.  What?  The comic shop?  Yes, you see, the owner or manager or whatever he is of the comic shop has for some bizzare reason caught my eye.  He’s older, maybe in his early thirties, but he is extremely nice and loves comics as much as I do.  I guess that’s really all I know about him, but that’s enough for me, combined with the fact that he is cute by my standards.  Anyway, last week he and I introduced ourselved to each other and I volunteered to help him out with some new inventory he was getting in.  He took my cell number and that was the last I has seen or heard of him till today.  Now, he has no wedding ring, I checked.  But I wasn’t getting ahead of myself till he asked for my cell number, then for some reason my brain kicked into hyper gear with furture “What If…” scenarios.  I arrived at the store today expecting maybe some witty banter, and update on the new inventory and some discussion about the new Batman movie.  Instead I got my stuff quickly, went to the counter and thanked him, leaving quickly and nervously and feeling foolish.  Why you ask?  It’s back to the prom attitude.  I realized while he scanned my comics that I was being a total tool.  This is a grown man who works at a comic shop and chatted with a customer and here I am getting all crush-style about him.  I hate thinking about dating.  It’s beyond just hating dating, I hate even considering that I could possibly date people.  Seriously, I need the dating handbook or something. 

         I left the shop thinking about how I could use a beer.  but then fell back on my new mannerisms.  I am trying not to drink as much and doing a great job might I add.  I went to Big Daddies for lunch yesterday, but that was my first visit in a week.  And I only had one beer.  I am just gonna not drink there anymore.  It costs me too much money and I always end up going overboard to try and prove my drinking ability with the old veteran drunk in there.  It’s silly I know, but at least I am making a stand against my stupid habit.

       In other news…Wilson is moving into a complex by my house.  I am jealous and want to move out of my house, but I can’t afford it with my credit card bills biting my ass all the time.   My dad thinks I should revise my resume again since apparently everyone in the world thinks I’m worthless.  (I mean, I just want an interview of something to give me a confidence boost).  My continued mailing of resumes is getting more desperate as this week I applied at a construction agency as well as a medical supplies company.  My cell phone never rings.   They now make fudge stripes with choclate cookies and white fudge and I ate 5 pieces of Salisbury Steak plus fries for dinner.

   I’m out.  Thanks for listening.  Peace.

I’m listening to Aimee Mann, that means I’m feeling down.

Notes on my days events…

– The interstate is crazy in the morning

– I can be showered and dressed in under 10 minutes

– I am an official server, I broke my first plate today

– I realized that even the smart kids can turn into losers

– Meijer is a hell hole

-I cannot operate a U-Scan and my cell phone at the same time

– Black Lights are making a come back in my bedroom

– Batman begins is by far the BEST Bat film to date.  Sorry Catwoman

– The quarter pounder with cheese will never taste bad to me

      So I was reading Ultimate Spider-Man issue 78 when she took the words right out of my mouth.  Mary Jane Watson (destined to be Mary Jane Watson Parker) : “I need to grow up.  Like right now, you know?  Like, right this very second I need to be more than I have been.  I need to stop making these mistakes I’ve made once before.  I need to – in my head I can do it.  I knwo I can.  But in life, I just don’t.”

    It’s precisely how I feel, and I too can change.  I need to get a grip on what I want to do.  I need to set goals.  It’s so lame, but all through school everyone says, “You have to have goals!”.  And it’s true, because without them you’re grasping at straws.  Instead of climbing th eone mountain I need to I am jumping over little hills.  It’s unnecessary work, when the things I want most are right in front of me.  And the tricky part is figuring out what it is exactly that you want.  It should be a simple thing, but it’s just not.  I want to get out of Indy.  I want to begin a life somewhere that’s totally different from this one.  A life where if I wanted I could be a totally different person, though I doubt I would be, or will be.  or whatever. 

     I talked to Schuyler today and confirmed my new club status.  The URB.  Unemployed Restaurant Bitches club.  We are both members who are trying our best to move on and get real jobs.  It made me miss school, chatting away aimlessly.  I got nostalgic and decided to hang my tea lights as well as my bird lights.  I feel much more at home suddenly, with that cheapened glow cascading my face.  Unfortuantely all my black lights are out of commision till I buy some new bulb, but I can make do.  This re-decorating was followed by Scattergories with my mom and Shellby.  The catergory was flowers.  The letter was “C”.  Shellby’s response?  Cauliflower.  She scares me sometimes.

    In other news, I switched from boxers to boxer briefs today.  The freedom is still there, but with sexiness.  The boxer brief is truely a good combination of worlds.  I bought several pairs from Gap, and since I just mailed in a payment on my Gap Card I justified my purchase, along with new shorts.  The envelope is in the mail right now, it’s purpose now to pay for my new underwear and shorts.  And speaking of envelopes, did you notice the new trend of the sticky stamp?  It’s no longer a lick and stick, just a sticker.  It makes so much more sense.  Why aren’t envelopes that way?  And who came up the idea in the first place?  I know, lets lick glue while doing the mail!  What a crack head. 

   Well, my random rant is over.  Peace out.

317-270-0008, my new cell number. use it

have you ever stopped to think about communication
it’s just a chance for your mind’s solitude to take vaction
and even if nobody understands
at least you’ve had the chance to organize your plans
and even if your just not making sense
at least your testing that the world still has it’s fence

I really hate birthdays