Does anybody read these?

Blah

If only I could drink whiskey at work. I am listening to the Essential Keith Whitley. That doesn't really help with the crying, but maybe better than Merle (especially with the booze shortage).

I thought my bank account would be economically stimulated today based on my social security number, but I haven't seen my moolah yet. The way my life is going, I'm sure I won't get anything.

Did I tell you all the screen on my phone is broken? If I do not answer my phone or send you a text right away assume it's because my phone is trying to eat your message. I allegedly have a new phone coming. She says it's the software that powers the screen, but I will say I've seen some interesting things lately.

When I do get my new phone, what do I do with all the texts I've saved over the last four months saying how great I am? I don't think they'll come with me, and I'm surely not ever getting any more.

The guys who are changing my oil tell me that they think it is only my bumper that is jacked up and nothing else. Of course, they could find other things when they put it on the rack. We'll see. If it's just the bumper, I'm not going to dick with it. I'm so retarded. I can't believe that I was crying so hard that I pulled onto a pile of rocks. Why do I do this to myself?

I'm flying to Ohio for my birthday. I'll be gone 5/21 (in the evening) until 5/26 (in the morning). My birthday extravaganza is tentatively scheduled for 5/23 or whenever Michael will be in town. At least he still loves me. I'm just thinking how long it took me to realize that.

I just can't ever put myself out there again. Much like having babies against my doctor's better judgment, it's going to take someone pretty damn special.

Which is why I think I'm going to die alone. Just call me Miss Havisham.

posted by Laura at 12:55 PM