Fugly Dresses

I could use four things right now and they all start with the letter “B”. The only good thing about Mondays, is that hopefully you have some great weekend memories to reminisce about while you sit at work wanting to be at home. And I do. It was another great weekend, with the exception of Sunday. It started with waking up all antsy and not knowing why. I hate not being able to sleep in on one of the few days I get to sleep in – and even though I took a Tylenol PM? Weird.

And then a bad shopping trip. First of all, I was late and I hate being late especially if some one is waiting for me by themselves, and of course some one was. And then of course everything I tried on was heinous. There’s nothing like a bad shopping trip to send you spiraling into a tunnel of self pity and think about everything that’s wrong with your life. My job is unsatisfying, I’m in debt, I’d like to lose 10lbs, I don’t know how to put up the effing Christmas lights…..blah, blah, blah. Today I just blame the dresses for being fugly – because they really were.

I hate self pity. It’s pretty ridiculous. I feel bad for being down about such superficial things when I have great health, and so does my family. I have a great boyfriend that takes the time to txt me that he misses me all through out the day when I know he’s supposed to be having fun with his friends and not remembering that I exist. And I have a pretty cush job and definitely make enough money for a very decent lifestyle. Millions of people would trade places with me in a heartbeat.

To cheer up Floyd and I went out to dinner at a trendy Mexican place by my house. Service – great. Presentation – great. Food – delicious.

007 Drunk dialed me again so that I could listen to his self pity. I don’t think he calls me sober any more. Didn’t even bother to ask me if I had any self pity to get off my chest, but hey, what else is new?