Remember when I said there was no way I was going to apply for the job and fuck everything rage punch kick die blargh? Okay, maybe it wasn’t that extreme, but that’s sort of how it seemed in my head. My boss (my new boss, who is actually my old boss. Yeah, that’s what it’s like working for this particular company, it’s basically just a revolving door of managers) sat me down and talked to me about it and convinced me to apply for it by promising me I could have the days off that I wanted (Wednesdays because those are my Broadway show days, and Broadway shows > my job). I’ve pretty much talked myself into doing it because despite how the pay is so not worth it, I think it will be worth it to have that little boost on my resume. Plus I can wear my own clothes. GOODBYE UGLY POLO SHIRTS! I just tell myself that I don’t have to do this forever.
I think you should all stop what you’re doing and say thank you to the deity of your choice that you are not me. I was actually doing okay for the last few months, I wasn’t feeling all crazy like I usually do. I know that applying for a promotion is not a huge deal and most people would easily make the decision to do it or not, but it’s different for me. I go over the different decisions in my head a million times, dwell on each one for ages, and then freak out because I’m afraid no matter which decision I make, it will be the wrong one. Same with the condo thing. Now I’m doing the same thing trying to decide whether or not I should go back to school. I mean, I think I should, I know I should, but trying to pick a major? Forget it. DECISION MAKING PROCESS SHUTS DOWN COMPLETELY. I keep waiting for some kind of sign that will magically tell me what I should do, but of course that doesn’t happen.
HI. I AM KRISTIN. I AM A NUTCASE.
Anyway, let’s change the subject. I am really into headbands lately. My hair is super long, like past my bra strap long, and it’s pretty and soft but it’s getting hot here in Vegas and it is slowly driving me crazy. It gets really hot at work sometimes and my hair seems like it’s everywhere and my neck is hot and it’s in my face and I just want to chop it off. Headbands help to keep it off my face, and they have the added bonus of making me look 11 years old. I’m not sure how that is a bonus, but I’m sure it is to some pervert in the sports book. I already look pretty young, thanks to years of not going in the sun (no wrinkles yet, yay!) and my extreme fatness, but the headband just adds that touch that screams “I AM A YOUNG AND INNOCENT SCHOOLGIRL”.
My nemesis brought me saltwater taffy all the way from New Jersey. I get my own box because 1) I am super fat and he knows it, and 2) he loves me even if he won’t admit it. Yes, our relationship is strange, I know. I’ve given up trying to understand it. I should just accept that we are going to drive each other nuts.
IT IS HOT. IT IS MAKING ME CRANKY.