the Dalaverse

Oh my god. Today sucked.

They moved me over to the other side of the store for some unfathomable reason -- I don't know why, I LIKE soft side and I'm GOOD at soft side and now I don't get to work with Meg anymore, and I don't know where anything is or where to backstock or ANYTHING. Literally all I did today was wander around, sniff candles, and read up on rum cocktails in The Complete Bartender's Guide. But that's not all. A bunch of Higher-Ups were checking on the store, I guess, and Joe snagged me as I was going by to make me recite 7-5-3, which are the stupid fucking benefits for bridal registrants that they make you memorize. And my mind completely BLANKED because I was already frazzled and so not in the mood to be teacher's pet today, and I stood there like Cletus and made a bunch of ummmmm noises. I don't think I remembered half of them. And on the one hand I was mortified because, well, because it was embarrassing, and on the other I was hopping mad because it's just a stupid summer job for me and it's not like it MATTERS. And then, AND THEN, I went up stairs and stood for a minute looking at the 7-5-3 card mutting "oh my god, oh my GOD" over my own stupidity, and right around the corner was the district manager. Who later saw me sniffing the candles, and also dropping a cutlery set.

*HEADDESK*

And THEN, when I get home, I discover this GIANT FUCKING INKSTAIN on my FAVORITE JEANS and part of my purse, and I don't know what it's from exactly. I suppose it must have been a leaking pen in my apron pocket, but I left my apron in a locker for the one and ONLY time since I have worked there so I can't check. Which means, hooray, it will be sitting in its PUDDLE OF INK when I go in on Friday.

And I'm flat broke and I'm on my period and I miss my dog and I want a drink and 342=w-9w'anfd[as80of7uy=w0[ejr!!!!!!!!11!!!!!!1!!!!!!




I think I will curl up in bed, wibble, and watch PotC a few dozen times.

You know what would be awesome? A take-out ice cream place. Like pizza. You could order a cone or a milkshake or a sundae or something, and they'd just bring it right to your door, in a specially equipped freezer truck-thing. Ben & Jerry's on wheels. For those days when you could KILL for ice cream but you can't bring yourself to leave the house. No, it's not healthy, but fuck it, neither's pizza or Chinese.

I mean, there's ice cream trucks, but they only doodle around in the afternoons, in summer. I'm talking about a twenty-four-hour, year-round service.

That would be awesome.

In the meantime, I'll just eat the last half-dozen fudgesicles.

The little narrow ones, not the big ones.

And they're FAT FREE.

Totally insufficient.

Wahhhh.