2001-08-01 :: 5:35 p.m.
My Boy said he's gonna try his best to find me a temping position over at the casa de HBO when I come home from Greece, which would be great, and can you tell I'm so freaking nervous about not finding a job and subsequently losing my apartment and having to move in with my mother i just had a heart palpitation over this thought, for the love of God noooo!
My Boy said if worse comes to worse he wouldn't mind me moving in with him but I was like "you're a mentalist," because the last time we lived together we broke up and I know it was years ago and we were younger and yadda yadda fishcakes, but I'm still paranoid about jinxing the good thing we got going so I really hope things don't get that desperate.
Plus, I cannot fathom sharing a bathroom with four boys. I would tear my hair out strand by strand.
Now is the time, if you are a rich, ailing relative of Sundaygirl, to come forward, name me the sole heir of your will, and die. Thank you.
(This delusion has been brought to you by a bevy of caffeinated drinks. Sundaygirl's oldest blood relations are all retired, and/or fishermen.)