I am up and it is past my bedtime.

You may be wondering why I'm up. Or not, but I don't see anyone else writing on this page so pipe down.

I love the people I work with. I do.
However, I hate the job so much that it is now offically keeping me up at night.
Im turning into the person who sleeps through their alarm.

All 4 of them. Any reason to stay in bed with the blankets over my head.

Right now, it's 11:30. I have to be up in 6 hours.
I'm still here writing this, because the thought of going in tomorrow has stressed me out so badly that I can't sleep.

I love the people, but the job is wearing me into the ground.

Get another job. Easy, right?
Well, my credit is in the shitter. It's getting better, I'm in the process of trying to build it up, but it's still bad.
That coupled with the fact that no one seems to want to give me a job, well.

I've never been this miserable, and I have no idea what to do about it. I can't quit, I have bills, and although Netscape is helping significantly with those, I can't live off of that.

Despite what you think about the glamorous life of a writer, people aren't exactly beating down my door to give me money (bastards).

The thing is, I don't want a million dollars.
Ok that's a lie. I want oodles and oodles of money and fame.

But I'm realistic. I just want to live comfortably and have a job that I don't mind going to.

Any ideas?

Wow. A friend pointed out to me this morning that I haven't updated all month.
Sorry, I'm a shitty person.

My life really isn't all that exciting.

I'm writing a book...no idea yet when it's coming out.

Despite that, it's the same old shit.

I called Com Ed to see when my bill was due. I pay about 50 bucks a month, and I'm totally fine with that. So you can only imagine the minor stroke I had when they told me my total balance was $700.

Yea. Seven hundred one dollar bills.

They "mis calculated" my billing.

By a fuck ton.

$700? For that sort of bill I should have a lucrative methamphetiamine ring running out of my apartment. But since I don't, I'm sort of screwed.
It's a good thing I look good by candlelight.

I woke up today on the very pissed off side of the bed.


Perry claims that I work magic with my lists, so here's an Intelligent Humor Exclusive.



Things That Piss Me Off.

1. Being broke. Things are a little tight for reasons entirely out of my control. I was also a psychology major. Meaning: I can't add or subtract worth shit. Well, that's a lie. I can't add or subtract worth shit once I open my check book. I know that writers are supposed to have glamorous lives and all...but until this shit starts paying off, Chase is going to continue to rape me with overdraft charges. Yes, I accidentally bounced a check. But somehow, I don't understand how charging me $200 is going to prevent that from happening in the future. Hopefully there is some super rich man reading this, thinking "Yes, I have entirely too much money! I should send some to that TweekerChick so she can do things she likes to do...like eat." (Oh, and if you ARE that rich guy, I'll totally let you touch my boob)...

It has been awhile since I wrote anything after an entire bottle of wine and a few beers.
It's been one of those weeks.
I'll spare you all the gory corporate bullshit you don't wanna hear about.

Instead I feel like talking about Dan.

You know those people that you automatically like?
The type of guy that you want to hug and kiss because right off the bat he reminds you of someone that you trust. That you love. That is always there with a smile no matter what.

That's Dan. He's a big kid. On Saturday, we were going to get a glimpse of him helping him sing Gloria Estevan,Shania Twain, and Natalie Imbrulia.

He was always up for the challenge and that's part of what made him awesome.

As far as "real people" go in the Chicago Area....they tend to be few and far between. That's what made Dan so special to so many people (besides his inflatable guitar). He was the type of guy that always made you feel right at home.

My favorite memory of Danimal was when I showed up for karaoke my second time and demanded someone sing "Smooth" by Rob Thomas/Santana.
He rolled his eyes, but he was shaking his ass anyway.

He didn't care who you are, how much money you made, what you did for a living or any other of that superficial bullshit.
If you were cool, it's cool.
As far as anyone can tell, if Dan didn't like you, you are most likely a huge douchebag, and no one else does either.

Underneath everything, what he did, who he was, Dan was an amazing person and someone I am glad I got a chance to know. If you were his friend, you were his friend. No ulterior motives, no dramatic bullshit.

I haven't been hitting the scene as hard as usual since I've moved here, and being friends with Dan was one of things that made life a little bit easier.

Sadly, Danimal passed away unexpectedly on March 30. Leaving behind Andee, 5 kids (including Andee's little girls), and a lot more people who loved and cared about him.

Anyway, everyone will miss you Dan. Just don't tell anyone I actually cried.
In honor of Danimal, "Come Sail Away" (the Cartman Version) has been retired.
I know that God has a plan for everyone, but sometimes it just doesn't seem fair the ones he decides to take away.

So, I'm getting shitfaced in the ridiculous pushup bra he used to tease me about.

This ones for you Dan.
I'll miss you.
We'll miss you.