bix

One. I still smell awesome, Flying Fox continues to own my soul.

Two. I'm dead. Seriously. Dead. Somehow my mother had the brilliant idea to do my laundry. Nice idea. Except that not only did she rifle through my room to do so, she took my work shirt without telling me so I totally had a freak out about it and she put my name tag in the wash. Who puts a nametag in the wash? It is so trashed and I am so dead. I'm less than pleased.

Three. Do you ever get those people who just touch you way too much? There is this girl I know and vaguely tolerate who does that. She sits right up against me, like seriously, shoulder to knee against me and it drives me nuts. I'm a very huggy person but seriously, bra. I need at least a little space. And she gropes my tattoo.

I stretched, my shirt rode up and there she was, just acting like my hip was totally hers to touch. It creeps me out on a lot of levels, kind of makes my skin crawl. And it's not just a "-touch- that's such a great tattoo" it's like a full three minutes of her just like... rubbing it.... totally makes my skin crawl.

Four. I dropped forty bucks on comics today and totally reaffirmed my geekdom. Ah. Feels good.

mi cara
Mrs. Remy LeBeau, I mean Bix.