My calculations are precise.

Being tired.
Its a feeling that many people have these days. I have the feeling like bullet wound from a battle tragically lost during American Idol. That's the only battle feild I chose to accept these days.

I woke up for my day at 2 am. Some punk started yelling "I'm gonna fucking kill you" right next to my window last night. He was not yelling at me, although for a brief second I thought maybe today was the day a stranger would start yelling at my apartment for no reason. Anywho, he was yelling at someone who had broke some sort of window and he also added that he fucking hated this person. Over and over........at first it was cool. But its a Tuesday night, its 2 o'clock in the morning, and you're choosing to bare your deepest angers in the drive way of 310 Bentley. Not cool brother.
So I got on my big pink rain boots, marched my way to the middle of the drive-way still in my PJs and still half asleep, and yelled like I was having a child.
Although it may sound trashy, it was classy.
I mean, if I'm anything is this world, I'm a class act. That's why my prices are so high.

So after that little romp I got ready for work jumped in my car a 3:15 and drove. I didn't see one car until I got to Manchester. Vermont is very quiet a 3 in the morning. Its a spooky, mind blowing experience. But one that I would easily give up for an extra two seconds of sleep.
I worked. We're doing good numbers and the job I do is always done well. I make a shit ton of cakes and now I bake bread like a pro. But that doesn't make up for the fact that I don't talk to people in the break room. My boss told me its not very nice to read a book while people are on break with me, he said they wanna talk and all I do is read. Not accpetable.
I don't get paid for my breaks. I sign out. But according to Brad I have to volunteer my time during my break to listen to people talk about nothing. Its the only way to be accepted into the cult and more imortantly your social clique. Although this was not in my working contract it a well know fact that you must revert to being 15 years old while socailizing.
This whole job is like an awkward high school dance. This is where boys will boys and women know their place and if someone messes with the balance she will be executed.
I'm taking my break in my car again. This dash board doesn't judge me and the CD player isn't a tool bag.

And then finally home. And home never felt so good as it did this afternoon. If heaven exists it will be sitting in my living room, watching American Idol, and freakin out cause Chikeze was voted off.
It was an emotional roller coaster that was as close to pure happiness as I can possibly get.
There is magic in Ryan Seacrest's skinny tie.

Well I should go to bed.
Sleeping off this day it gonna be ficking Swwwweeetttt!