what's your poison

why hello there, Mr. Bartender. Well, aren't you a comely man. What's my poison, you ask? Oh ho ho ho. You're silly. I'll have a Shirley Temple.

Or some whiskey.

I'm almost out of perfume. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't live off my perfume, but still. It never hurts to smell like a lady everyday. I'm thinking of changing my scent. Maybe from beach chick to provocative bitch. Yeah, that's the ticket.

She insists on sending her bumper stickers every so often. So for every bumper sticker I send, that's how many loads of my laundry she gets to fold. Sounds like a plan.

I never noticed how torturesome walking to class is without headphones for your iPod. I haven't listened to it for days! Not to mention I looked so much more cooler listening to music while on my sojourn to class. Ugh, the discrepencies of life will kill ya.

It's almost been an entire year. ONE full year. Who would've guessed.

Recently, I have been bitten by the occupation bug. Hopefully I can handle it. But c'mon, a girl needs money. It sucks being broke most of the time. My bank account is just screaming to be filled once more with greedy goodness. I remember when I was employed. But hopefully, within the upcoming weeks, I will be.