(no subject)

My God. There's nothing like PMS to turn my usually nice self into the uberbitch. I don't even KNOW. I snapped at two customers yesterday night. I am seriously so done with dealing with people. It's like the stupidity level has suddenly skyrocketed and fucking customers, they're breaking my SOUL. Lady, there are EIGHT pieces total in a whole pumpkin loaf, I am NOT charging you just for seven because THE OTHER STORE ALWAYS GIVES ME THE HEEL FREE. A) Then go to the other store and b) the heel is like, HALF AN INCH SMALLER. IT'S STILL SELLABLE. I will break your face in two, don't think I won't. And I just feel MISERABLE and achey and I want JUNK FOOD and I just want to get LAID, oh my God, is it possible to die from that? I might be dying.

Lately all I've been thinking about is moving, just finally getting out of this stagnant rut I've found myself in. I have no life, I do the same thing every damn day, and everytime I get in my car to drive to USF I want to cry. I'm so unhappy. I feel horrible for feeling that way, because I love my family and I'll miss them and my familiarity with everything here immensely, but I just... I don't feel like I'm living. And not that I'm saying moving will be the magical answer to everything, but all signs have been pointing to YES IT'S TIME TO GET THE HELL OUT for a while now, I think. I'm just really stupidly excited about it.

I VERY MUCH enjoy staring at this, oooh, ohh, look at how MANLY and HOT they are. And did I mention MANLY and UNNNFF. You really, really aren't helping, boys.

WinCon hotel reservation is open! KWEEEEENNN omg. *Clings*

I'm gonna go on with the dying now, augh.