Everybody's working for the weekend

Oh, work.
Where should I begin in that Bitching Department? I mean, don't get me wrong, this has been a decent summer and all, but shitdang. I worked way too much in a two-and-a-half week span, and I'm surprised I made it through. A lot of people, in a general sense, would look at me and reply to my bitching as retardation, but when you work two, count 'em, two customer service jobs, it's no bueno for the Sanity Scale.

Then, my boss, bless his heart because he's so damn kickass and whathaveyou, informs me that I'm on an "occupational probation" because my sales have been, indeed lacking, which I will admit to, I am having a slow couple of weeks plus a lot of personal BS getting in the way, but shit. That's a lot of pressure to take in on a day off, especially when you have a mere three shifts to make up for it.

So I don't know quite what to do.
I hear priceline.com just moved its way into the Mitten, so we shall see how to go about that as far as submitting a good 'ole app goes. Unfortunately, I'd have my whole ass in the door if I was bi-lingual. I am, just in english and sarcasm, I'm afraid.

Coping with the Spinsterhood
Not an easy task. It really isn't, truth be told. I was just so comfortable with feeling a different kind of love than what friends or family could offer, and fate just deals a weird hand at times. I'm not blaming anyone here, it's just how it all works out, but I can't say that it doesn't suck feeling lonely. I miss waking up next to someone that gives two shits about me, something as simplistic as holding hands makes me ache a bit, or not being the odd one out in a group of happy couples.

Suffice to say, I am known to be a bit of a hopeless romantic, and I always have had a curiosity how my life would play out, if real life could mesh well with a happy movie ending. Ya catchin' what I'm throwin'?

Bah, don't listen to my dribble about girly stuff and love. It gets old to all of you, I'm sure. I said listen. I meant "read". My bad. I keep forgetting I have a stylistic way of writing as if I'm talking to someone in a conversation.

I was actually told that in high school by a fellow peer and it was one of the best compliments I ever recieved. He continued on saying, "it's as if you don't even try at all, it just comes to you."

You've got a friend in me
I feel like a complete asshole when it comes to my friends as of late. I apologize, sincerely, for not keeping in astute contact with the likes of you, amidst my crazy work schedule and scaling out the differences in my own flaws. I hope to get the ball rolling as far as being a better friend for lack of a better term. Just give me some time.

...and the whole Dave thing. Needless to say, I haven't been home much. Not because I don't want to be around him at all or because I hate his guts for wanting to spend time with his lady, that's not true at all. I guess I'm freaked out as to what's going to happen, and as a coward I don't want to come to terms with it. It's a real scary situation. I don't know if he understands that, but regardless, I love him to death and I don't know what I'd do or who I'd be without him making such an impact as much as he did, in a lot of good ways and in some bad ways.

Why the title of the blog, you ask? Dave and I were watching a mockery video of "Working for the Weekend" by Loverboy via youtube.com, for the sheer fact that he's in search of the perfect song to cover for the new Beat-Ups album. Hilarious. Go give it a looksee.

For now, I'm going to do some overdue cleaning of my room, along with writing some much needed letters.