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March has not treated me well.


You think, okay, so I owe 605 dollars to the IRS. Okay. It'll be fine. You can do it. Positive, positive, positive. Think like Aln.

But really, you're screwed.

The only thing on your mind recently is, alright, things can't be anymore difficult, it can't get any worse, and then.

You're taking the long walk from work to your car this evening after a particularly annoying shift that began with the fact that you were actually at work at a god-awful hour (1130a and four hours of sleep) and ended with having to cancel plans with your mother because today was the day they decided you needed to be in the restaurant hours longer than needed, thinking Irish cream! Nap! Shower! Clst&Rbkh! Vegetarian cabbage & red potato soup! Not thinking, of course, 605 605 605 605, which was your fatal mistake. Feeling positive is not in your cards, so says the universe, and to slap you out if it your car gets keyed. KEYED. Your most valued possession, your Civic, Henry, gets keyed.


Yep, the worst is yet to come.



Spent St. Patrick's day with Clst&Rbkh, the roommates, and Thms. We did Irish car bombs after Irish car bomb. We watched youtube clips and spent most of the night sitting outside. It was ridiculously hot inside even with the windows and doors open; we blame Mghn's all day soup making. They took an absurd amount of pictures while I watched. Thms and I ran to Albertson's for more Guinness. It was a more fun and less crazy/wasted holiday than years past.




My ear and teeth still hurt and I cannot drink enough water. I need bigger glasses.