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.