I must confess, my feet are mostly feetist, yes.

I have a cat asleep in my lap. Yesterday, she came along and draped herself completely across both of my arms. This makes it difficult to type. :P

Like Vicki, I want to stay married for awhile before kids come into the picture; enjoy having the connection with someone and not have to worry about anyone other than ourselves. It's selfish, but hey -- at least we'd know we were not in the right place for kids and not have them before we were ready.

Okay, I say we, I mean me. ;)

The coworker actually initiated a conversation with me the other day, as I was leaving. Okay, it was last week, but he was asking something about what I was up to that night or that weekend, or what I'd done the night before... beh. I don't remember, and it wasn't that huge of a deal.

Getting dicked around at work, pissing me off. Other than stripping, does anyone know what I can do, employment-wise, on Saturdays to earn some dough? Frig I'm screwed on this. Oh well... at least as the weather turns (soap opera name, there? :), I'll have a bit of an excuse to not do some of the shifts she's giving me. The thing is, I like the music, I like the show for the 6-11 hour, it's just the principle of the thing. Why does he get to just waltz in and take on the shift he wants? Because I'm the bitch, and I bend over for this crap all the time. "You're not doing a good job on this shift, so we're going to pull you off it for a month" instead of saying, "It sounds bad, fix it." And then the month has turned into two... so it's email time. Fuck. I hate this. This is the stress.

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