less-than-fabu friday

imagine this: it's two o'clock in the afternoon, i slide into my trusty lancer, all fresh and happy, blowing kisses to my sweet, little brother. it was all very postcard-y.

now imagine this: it's ten minutes later, a mere 10 kilometers away from my house in the suburbs, and there i am, screaming, "f*ckin' learn to f*ckin' drive, you f*ckin' f*ckers!" it was like getting top-billing for a road rage movie.

not a very good start.

anyway, drove to the biz district to pick up a check for a moonlight gig. got there late though (refer to f*ckin' f*ckers above), so wasn't able to encash my little prize. which is just as well as i may have been tempted to veer right, head for the mall, and buy something pink or sparkly (or both). and one can't afford to buy unnecessary baubles when one has a seven-year-old brother waiting to matriculate, right? man, these catholic schools really know how to stick it to you. oh well.

so now i'm at work. blogging as i do research for this segment i write. i'm not much of a multi-tasker so one of those tasks is, of course, suffering. (you guess which one.) later tonight, i hear we're doing the putt-putt rematch. ack. wonder if my birthday luck will hold. (i actually got a couple of birdies the last time.) probably not. (was never that lucky.)

hey, i just realized that it's payday. i'm grinning now.

O o O

rollster just walked in and handed me a pretty anklet. it's pink and blue. cute.