My computer sucks balls. Had a new post here, but it got deleted when I tried to post. Is the site slow tonight, too? Whatever it is, it's irritating me.
I managed to resist the temptation for the booty call. I think it was the right choice, even though I still want sex. Guess it will teach me patience or some shit.
I hate the category feature here. I don't want to categorize my posts. I don't want to call it a blog, either. This is my journal. Always has been, always will be. I'm not attention-whorey enough for a blog. I mean, I'm an attention whore (may of you have seen fits of nakedness here), but still not of the caliber to call this a blog.
I have awesome Prom pics, but Facebook won't recognize my "SG" friends list, and I don't want to post pics without restricting them unless I have permission. If you have pics of me, go ahead and post them. I work in an industry that's pretty forgiving, so it's okay if pics of dats+zombies surface.
I'm super nervous about dinner with the_cowboy tomorrow. I haven't actually seen him since before our breakup. In fact, I haven't laid eyes on him for nearly a year. I don't know what I want from this interaction. I miss him, but not the way he treated me. I don't understand how I make the distinction, though.
I'm getting my hair & nails done before dinner tomorrow. Want to look like someone to be missed. Plus, I get to head up north & hang with some of my girls. Yay.
Consulting is going well, which is good because even though my boss dresses like a slob, I am expected to channel Jackie O or Michelle Obama or someone while I work. I can, but my good stuff is gonna get ruined with a quickness. I need to buy clothes. I've had myself on shopping restriction since October, so it's time for some new duds.
You're the funniest guy on the show.
I managed to resist the temptation for the booty call. I think it was the right choice, even though I still want sex. Guess it will teach me patience or some shit.
I hate the category feature here. I don't want to categorize my posts. I don't want to call it a blog, either. This is my journal. Always has been, always will be. I'm not attention-whorey enough for a blog. I mean, I'm an attention whore (may of you have seen fits of nakedness here), but still not of the caliber to call this a blog.
I have awesome Prom pics, but Facebook won't recognize my "SG" friends list, and I don't want to post pics without restricting them unless I have permission. If you have pics of me, go ahead and post them. I work in an industry that's pretty forgiving, so it's okay if pics of dats+zombies surface.
I'm super nervous about dinner with the_cowboy tomorrow. I haven't actually seen him since before our breakup. In fact, I haven't laid eyes on him for nearly a year. I don't know what I want from this interaction. I miss him, but not the way he treated me. I don't understand how I make the distinction, though.
I'm getting my hair & nails done before dinner tomorrow. Want to look like someone to be missed. Plus, I get to head up north & hang with some of my girls. Yay.
Consulting is going well, which is good because even though my boss dresses like a slob, I am expected to channel Jackie O or Michelle Obama or someone while I work. I can, but my good stuff is gonna get ruined with a quickness. I need to buy clothes. I've had myself on shopping restriction since October, so it's time for some new duds.
You're the funniest guy on the show.
