I have hilariously, and, to be frank, typically, made my boy problem even worse. It's straight out of poor chick lit. I actually used the phrase, "If you don't know why I'm mad at you, you don't DESERVE to know." Tragic. I give up. Life is too short to be as idiotic as this. Remind me not to drink doubles anymore.
My piratey dance partner and I were both hungover for ballroom tonight. Doing fast spins in the cha-cha on an iffy stomach is probably not reccomended by the surgeon-general. We power-sauced through, however, and managed not to screw up too much. Afterward, we went to his old workplace for a drink. I really wish I could work fine dining. Too bad my resume has places like Nickel's and Jose's Noodle Factory on it. I can't even take me seriously.
Well, November's off to quite the start. I feel like this month is going to be hellish. Prove me wrong, November. Prove me wrong.
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