Why Goodwill Is Literally Good Will

Okay, here's why I love the Goodwill near my work:

Today, I found the EXACT pants I used to wear all the time for a couple years before biking made awkward holes near the crotch. They are the same color, same style, my god, they're even the same size! It's marvelously fucking nuts!

Donuts And Wine For The After-Party

OMG do I want to be in a band! I am serious. I've always wanted to, but I think I always knew it was never going to be a big-time thing. I'm nowhere near musically inclined enough to get far in that field. I just think it'd be ten kinds of hilarious/fun to get on stage and scream grrly music at a bunch of people. I used to think about being a guitar god, but that got old quick. Not that I wouldn't learn a couple chords if it was needed. Especially after going to some small shows, where the band people are all friends with each other and the crowd and collaborate together in like a neverending stream of other bands. F-U-N. Plus, we could make buttons and shirts for our fans, even though we wouldn't be nearly good enough to deserve them.

My white rat bit me on the eyebrow and made a mark. Bitch. Completely uncalled for.

Customer Service Is Tricky

Dear guys old enough to be my dad (or grandpa),

Don't take the fact that I'm being nice to you as evidence that I find you attractive. On the contrary, as soon as I know what you're thinking I become repulsed. BUT, and this is the important part, I continue to be nice, or at least polite, and it's because, get this, it's my JOOOOOB. As in, I can read your face and know you're thinking lecherous things, but I get paid to be polite and serve you food and drinks. Don't think my nice manners in any way indicate that I find you anything other than a total creep. Don't think I'm encouraging you in any way. Believe me, I wish it wasn't my job to be friendly and polite to absolutely everyone, and I'm just so terribly sorry if I seem like a tease. But really, get a life. If your wife and children don't give you enough attention, don't assume I'm going to be your special friend.

Seven Minutes In Dreamland

I actually fell asleep during an art critique today. This was definitely not a good day to be awake. Luckily the teacher didn't say anything, though she must have seen me. I was probably asleep for no more than seven minutes, but somehow that was enough to keep my head from hitting the desk for the rest of the day. I suppose it's just as well, since I didn't actually have many nice things to say about most of the work that was up. I'm such an asshole that way. I think I even dreamed a little while I slept.

Holy Mother of God, please let this semester end faster. I would like to put myself in deeper shit next semester by taking harder classes as soon as possible, please. kthxbi

On the PLUS side, I finished a couple paintings. Go I.

Kids...

They think all they have to do is grow their hair and wear tight jeans and hump a guitar and they'll actually be someone. YOU SUCK, IDIOT. Get a job already! Can't live off mummy and daddy forever. Well, you can, but that would work against your plan to become a rock god and have women throw their underwear at you. I know the ones. They smirk rather than smile because they're so damned cocksure.

Boy, I just can't wait till I'm over this disgusted phase and able to look on such people with a fond and indulgent eye full of memories.