Well, I finally did it, I submitted my short story to a magazine for publication consideration. Although it isn't any Olympic feat to do this, I'm pretty satisfied with myself for finally deciding that I don't fucking care if they send me some letter saying they didn't like it or it wasn't good enoough. I'm proud of my short story, and it doesn't matter if they don't like it. Really. I don't care. *sniff*

I'm exhausted. I stayed out much too late last night, considering that I had to be at work this morning at nine in the morning. But how was I supposed to resist an invitation to my friend Dennis' 70's theme birthday party? I mean, he even staged a live version of that popular game show, Match Game. It was the most profane game show I think I've ever seen in my life, but also the most hysterical. Then again, that may have been due to the Long Beach Iced Teas I was drinking. *hic*

Very busy day at work. Even though our store was filled with customers, I somehow found the time to stand around juggling bottles of shampoo to the horror of my co-workers. The customers loved it though, so fuck work. I'm a manager, dammit, so I'll juggle if I want to.

Tired. Must. Sleep.