MUH.

Quick update 'cause I have to take off for work in like five minutes:

I'm sick. It's fabulous. I seem to be getting over it really quicklike, though. Terry was REALLY effing sick when I left yesterday. I wanted to take off work and take care of him SO bad. But I couldn't. I am teh poor. And we must save for apartment of doom.

Been on the floor at work for the past three days. It's been a goddamn wreck. Effing canadians and their holidays. UGH. And it looks as if I'm gonna be the next denim specialist. Fab. DON'T TOUCH MY FUCKING DENIM! But yeah. Floor's a mess, stockroom's clean. And EMPTY. Doesn't it effing figure?

And I couldn't get effing Saturday off. OH MY GOD IT SUCKS. But somehow I will partake in the Chev festivities. I don't care if I have to like, get off work at 10-11 and immediately head down there. SOMETHING IS GOING TO WORK, DAMNIT.

Oh. And the pants I got for Terry were fucking PERFECT. JESUS. I'm going to buy him Montaras in every fucking wash we have. Except the ones that look all oily and dirty and gross. The name of the wash escapes me at the moment. Those are just gnarly and whoever buys them should probably be executed on site.

Anyhow. Off to worky.