Put On Your Red Shoes

I'm going to visit Keri this Saturday-Monday. I could have been there Friday-Monday, had I not been a pussy and caved when my boss asked me to work from 9am-12pm Saturday morning, even though I had already taken off. Yeah yeah, it's only three hours, but it blows nonetheless. Also, here at the store? They want us to start decorating for Christmas already. If someone comes in here within the next week wanting to send out Christmas presents, I will assassinate them. Christmas can NOT start being celebrated before Thanksgiving. If someone ran for office on that platform alone, I would vote for them. They would not win, but I would vote for them.

Halloween was a bewitchingly (yeah I made a word up, what now) good time. My friend Mary had a party Saturday that a lot of people ended up coming to depite it being in kinda-sorta-bufu. Steve, this guy I went on a date with over the summer was there, the first time I had seen him since August or so. He tried calling me two or three times afterwards, but I never answered the phone, because I'm a horrible person. (Plus he was the absolute worst kisser in the entire world. And he was shorter than me. But mostly because I'm a terrible person.) So I saw him, said hi, how are you doing, and we were civil. Awkward, yet civil. Then later on I start talking to this really nice, funny guy, George. Who I find out is one of Steve's best friends. Sometime during the night Steve clued him in as to who he was talking to, and once George found out, he said, as per Rich, Diana's boyfriend and also Steve's good friend (are you following me?) "Fuck that bitch." Wow. Nice. Not like I didn't deserve it, that's not the case by any means, but I didn't need to actually hear it. Goddamnit, now that's all I can think of - "Fuck that bitch". I want to call Steve and apologize to him, but I don't want it to look like I have an ulterior motive. I know there's people out there who don't like me, or think I'm a bitch, I'm not delusional, but it sucks ass actually hearing it. I am a terrible terrible person.

We went to the bar on Halloween, our usual Tuesady night place. The bartenders there are always really nice, giving you a free drink after you buy three or four. This time it was so crowded we were double-fisting (oh yeah), and I went up to get four Miller Lites. The guy gave me four for $5.50, which is the normal price for two beers, and which was also very lovely of him considering it was the first beers I had gotten from him all night. Later that night after last call, I went up and thanked him for the two free ones and he told me no problem because, and I quote, "You always come up and ask with a smile on your face. I kinda have a crush on you." You have no idea how nice this was the hear, because I've been told numerous, NUMEROUS times that I never smile, and always look pissed when I'm at the bar. I actually had someone in a band shine a fucking FLASHLIGHT on me one time and ask "Why aren't you having a good time?" after I had just been laughing with Megan about how people say that to me all the time. I wanted to stab that guy in the face when he did that. But, all that is water under the bridge now cause some nice, and cute, may I add, bartender has a crush on me because I'm always smiling. Fuck yes bitches. Bartender's at Rhino: 1 Lameass bands with flashlights: 0

My parents leave tomorrow for a one week trip to Arizona. Not only are they not leaving me the Expedition, but the drivers side window on the car doesn't work so I can't take advantage of smoking in it while they're gone. Is my life awful or what.

I'm 99.99% sure I'm going to get paid tomorrow, but that 0.01% is scaring me because if I don't get to see Borat tomorrow, so help me god. Also, so help everyone who will have to deal with me and my Borat-induced rage.

Better Sophia?