So yesterday I threw myself a bit of a pity party and moped around the house most of the day. That is, until I bought a case of beer and started smoking menthols. Then Preston (you know, the guy who streaked my wedding) offered me a waitressing job at the new BW3's, for which he is assistant manager and in charge of hiring. At this point the idea of a sure thing kind of job would be good for the self esteem, but working for P? I'm not really sure I'm even capable of taking directions from a guy I've seen naked more times than *too early for clever analogy here*. And the bastard ate all my soup. My boy's homemade soup. I gave him a pouty face and he made me soup. He's a good boy.

And that was yesterday. Today the party is over. I'm making coffee, strong coffee. I will sit at my computer for the morning hours, and I will be productive. I will work diligently morning and night to finish my thesis. I'll pretend it's homework. I miss homework. This afternoon will be filled with such wonderful goals as filling out an application at B-dubs, taking a typing test at Express, applying to be a legal secretary, and various other jobs that won't give me benefits and won't require I have one degree, let alone two. But that will be okay, because it will give me two things I need right now: 1)It will get me out of the house and 2) it will give me money. Not good money but more than I have at the moment. If I work hard enough, I might be able to afford the gas it took to drive me to work. YES! (Insert Smith arm-with-closed-fist-to-chest move here.)