...things.

Every day at work is better than the last. Goddamn.

Clean stockroom. Less than 100 boxes, mostly replen, it seems. Another early morning shift tomorrow with six people = stockroom almost completely empty by the weekend. WHICH I HAVE OFF. GLEE.

Good stuff. I'm very much relieved and... happy. Yes.

I went to the library today. Insanity. I've been talking about doing it for like a week and a half, but every day after work the need to go home, consume the entire contents of the kitchen and vegetate has been too great. Heh. So yeah. Stopped in there for about an hour and a half and came out with a Marilyn biography that I think I've already read, a book on flappers and Diary: A Novel by Chuck Palahniuk (thanks, Molly-face!). Started on the latter immediately and it's pretty fucking bad-ass so far. Yay for stuff to read on my lunch breaks. I was really sad that all their Hunter S. Thompson books were checked out, though. UGH. Oh well. I'll just have to go buy them at Half Price Books tomorrow. Yep.

The urge to read these last few weeks has been so great that I told Karina to start throwing books at me. The only one she had readily available was Star: A Novel by Pam Anderson. I have nothing against Pam, she's sorta awesome, but jesus christ. I didn't even get a chapter into it and had to stop because it's the worst pile of shit I've ever laid hands on in my life. The writing style is totally reminiscent of Ann M. Martin's Baby-sitter's Club series (which, I'll admit, I owned almost all of when I was a kid), but much, much worse. Characters' personality traits totally unrealistic and situations just... dumb. And the thing that's REALLY sad? She had a GHOSTWRITER. WHO IS MALE.

Anyhow.

Tomorrow. Work 6-3, cash paycheck, head to Ed Wyse and buy much beauty shit from the K-town, stop by Half Price Books. Camano by 5-ish. Pounce on Terry's head.

Oh glorious hanger blisters on both index fingers. I loves you.