Lying Lies And The Liars That Tell Them.

Check's in the mail. I won't come in your mouth. I'll call you this week.

I give up. I happen to be able to take a hint. Mr. I-Love-Myself-Because-I-Can't-Be-Bothered-To-Call-Anyone-Else can take a flying leap. At least I got some hot monkey love out of it. On to bigger and brighter people. Nope, not bitter.

At any rate, it's been a long day. I'm overworked and underpaid. I should be cleaning right now, but I'm not. I hate cleaning. But, on the off chance that I pick up some random hottie ... maybe I should clean.

Strangely enough, I realize that, when I clean, I have an inordinate amount of lingerie. I can't comprehend why I have so many pairs of panties. It's almost a sick, bizarre, obsession with me. If loving whorey underwear is wrong, I just don't wanna be right. But the question remains ... is there a man out there can handle all of my idiosyncracies? My shoe fetish, my incomparable lust for all things lacy, and my desire for designer handbags?

Boy Update: Already let you in on my piss-poor love life. No need to re-hash that shit.

AWNSDI: $30.00, Kate Spade knockoff purse. $3.29, breakfast. $2.18, diet pepsi and granola bar for lunch. But, you can't really count the breakfast and lunch, as they were from the cash I withdrew yesterday. Therefore ... today's grand total is $30.00. I have also listed a whole bunch of crap on eBay to try to make some moola.