I would love to dance, Fred Savage.

I never wear my seat belt. I realized this today. It's not a conscience choice. I just recklessly disregard my safety completely.I also realize my hands leave the wheel more often than I feel comfortable admitting. Again, not a conscience decision. I'm just careless, I guess.

My manager told me that when she thinks of me she thinks of a bohemian New York model; "a free spirit" she said. I'm not sure what this means. It sounds like someone I might like to be.

I found vanilla scented deodorant yesterday. Needless to say,I bought it.

Our Christmas decorations are up. The tree has yet to be festooned with ornaments, but it's up and lit. As much as I hate the holidays, I can't help but love my house this time of year. It's the only time it feels warm. It reminds me of the perfect place to grow up. This reminds me; I must buy some mistletoe so I can wait patiently underneath it.

I get to see Stella in ONE WEEK. My excitement is excessive and annoying. I suppose I should send my mustache to the dry cleaners. I should probably take my suit to the barber.

November is over. This means I have failed my goal to produce 30-40,000 words in novella form. I hate that I'm not even close. I also hate that I hate what it is I'm writing.
(Talon suggests I turn it into a Sci-fi/slasher/drama. The plot changes in mid plot. I believe my character falls in love with an alien who turns out to be her father? I also believe there was a alien cheetah/robot involved. Sadly, this might be my only option.) A friend told me that perhaps I shouldn't have written so close to home, that maybe if I made up all the feelings that it would come easier. I think she might be right.

My lip gloss is poppin', my lip gloss is cool
Yeah.
That's in my head.


And to answer your question, no.
It saddens me, but the answer is most likely "no"
As if we even had a chance....