It's Not in the Water

I'm on a new theory. Vitamin C may be the missing the hormone I've always needed. I started taking some before my most recent trip to Atlanta, and I noticed my mood was about ten times giddier and happier than ever. In fact, people were commenting on the change. I might have started to believe I was a happy person all on my own, so I slacked off on taking the vitamin. I would take one here and there, and then everyone started asking, "Have you taken your vitamin C today? What's wrong with you?" Sadly, peeps who knew me best were surprisingly accurate as they pointed out days where I'd missed a dosage. I took one today because I was feeling a little down and frustrated. Within hours, I was pulling stunts and cracking jokes with my bosses. Can vitamin C really be all that I need to be a happy person? And how sad is it that I need a vitamin to make me tolerable? I walked in the door from work today, and my parents said "You've had your vitamin C today, have't you?!" I laughed and said, "Yeah, can you tell?"

The regular me would have furrowed and said, "Why?"


Dude, I Need a Day

Just one freaking day where I can come to work and feel like I got something accomplished--like I made a positive difference. I need a day where people don't call me with all sorts of weird problems that I have no control over, and then I have to tell them, "Sure, let me take care of that." I have no idea what I'm doing. My company switched from what they thought was an atiquated system to a new and improved one; however, now I have about four systems to cross reference. One system can't backdate; the other can't future date. One I can't see breakdowns on; the other doesn't have the history. One still has glitches, and I shouldn't go by the figures; the other won't let me on because I have "INVALID CREDENTIAL INFORMATION."

I want to run away and never come back.



I received some really good news today. I have found a job with my bank, and to make the deal even sweeter, I'm getting a pretty good raise. It feels really good to be wanted, and sadly, I don't think I've felt this way in far too long. I tend to sell myself short a lot, and continually put myself & my talents down. After my interview last week, I was quite certain I wouldn't be offered the position. I have been on a couple of interviews this past year, and because I wasn't ever called with an offer, I assumed that, that meant I am a horrible employee, which quickly turned to "no one wants me." It's been a difficult transition for me. I have gotten every job I've ever applied for, and this past year has had me rethinking, well, me. But alas, I can breathe again.


Shameless. Utterly Shameless

I am so proud of myself. For the past few days, I have managed to avoid the downside of my all too recurring bad moods. I have stayed so busy that my memory is almost working as well as it used to. I have made phone calls on two job prospects. I picked up extra hours at two jobs that I already have. I've even been tackling all those things I was "gonna get to." I think I even managed to nip a cold in the bud by taking way too much vitamin C.

So, now that I have bragged on myself so, I'm sure all is ready to fall into the pooper.


Crack Does, Indeed, Kill

I spied something so good today that I wanted to share it with my blog. As I drove to work, I heard a motorcycle vibrate nosily around me. As I looked in all directions, I realized some idiot on his bike decided to cut between me and another car...because that's what motorcycles are for. As he zoomed past me, I saw what I can only presume was his girlfriend on the back of the bike with her ASS CRACK totally exposed. I immediately started howling with laughter thinking that would totally be my luck. I would be riding along on my bike or even someone else's bike with my ass crack hanging out for the whole world to see. Honestly, that's all it would take for me to never leave the house again.

I did manage to catch up to the bike at the stoplight. He was right in front of me with his chick's ass crack just begging for a picture. I whipped out my camera phone, but the sunlight was so bright and because those cameras don't zoom, I couldn't quite capture the beauty of the moment. I also noticed that the guy might have noticed I was trying to take a picture as he kept turning around with a very perplexed look on his face.

So, I decided I'd do the next best thing. I'd blog about it.


I Couldn't Stop Myself

From becoming a member of the Matchbox Twenty fanclub. Even though I am at the ripe age of twenty-five, which is much, much too old to be in any fan club, because it's something you spend your allowance on when you're thirteen, I had to do it. I'm a huge fan of Rob Thomas. I drool over him like a slobbering fool, and I'm very aware of my ovaries when I see him.

I just dropped a significant amount of money to land me floor tickets, where I'm trying to pray to Rob Thomas to let me get super-duper close, as in I can see eye color, catch a mist of sweat, and maybe a whiff of his body odor too. I once saw the band at a pretty small venue here, and I managed to skip several rows to what will probably remain the closest I ever get to Rob; however, I'm seriously considering buying one of their vacation packages. If I have to buy my way to touch Rob Thomas, then so be it.

I'm such a teeny bopper.