So I’m going to assume based on the distinct lack of responses that we’re over, until I’m told or shown otherwise.
…Wow. Not how I wanted, thought, or imagined how things would go.
I'm the book that beat the speed-reader, and I'm the card the dealers won't touch. And it's just not true I'm a man-eater; all the same, we should probably go dutch.
The things you pick up as you go.
I have been flirting with this guy in my Entrepreneurship class for the last 2 hours. He told me to friend him on Facebook, and I just creeped him to see what his deal was, interests (outside of this class, making money, and business, of course), and if he was single.
…He’s friends with the most recent failed relationship partner and all of his friends.
I don’t want to know how they know each other.
It’s official. I have to move out of Vermont. I have dated EVERYONE.
My hand, my hand, my hand.
So swollen now that I can’t make a fist or close my fingers.
And I’m supposed to drive into town later. To drop off a resume at the co-op, and then go into the mall and try to look charming and cute and finagle a job from my old manager.
With a hand that resembles the Hamburger Helper “Helping Hand” mascot. Little red nose in the middle of my palm and everything. Like a frigging stigmata. And Jesus I am decidedly NOT.