My internal monologue is kind of an asshole.

I’ve just finished baking two dozen cupcakes for work tomorrow, and if the customer who signed up for this free cupcake decorating class doesn’t show up, they had DAMN WELL BETTER LET ME DO A DEMO this time.  (Unlike last time, when I brought in a box of Nilla Wafers and never got to pipe tiny adorable flowers onto them.)

Because I have promised coworkers cupcakes. Either this happens, or I’m going to demand that my manager buy me four replacement eggs, so help me.

(“You owe me two tablespoons of vegetable oil."  ”…“)

The current crazy, Stepford-esque Pinterest-ey trend is Day Planners with all sorts of special stickers and shit… but it’s all normal, cutesy crap like “Pay Day!” and “To Do:” &c.  WHERE ARE MY “NERVOUS BREAKDOWN!” or “Drink Heavily" STICKERS?  I bought a planner, I need something to put on the first anniversary of my mom’s death GDI.

I do not find my mother’s April Fool’s Day “joke” particularly amusing this year.

I just saw a car drive past with a recently used and unwashed kayak strapped to the roof. In Chicago. In early February. Somebody come up with an explanation that doesn’t involve a full kilo of pure, uncut, grade-a crazy. Because I legitimately have icicles forming on my eyelashes right now, and seriously… what?

Tonight I have:

Consumed half a bottle of gin.

Google street viewed the vacant lot where my childhood home once stood.

Viewed a YouTube ad for a reboot of the children’s show I named my first pet after. Wibble.

Sent my landlord a passive-aggressive text. Excellent way to not be homeless this time next year, y/y?

Possibly agreed to come in to work tomorrow as early as possible without hitting 40 hours for the week and getting my part-time ass fired.

Yaye?

Tonight at Jewel-Osco the meat department was festooned with umbrella lights while a stunningly attractive man in a cuddly sweater was rigidly posed, pretending to shop whilst somehow also looking back over his shoulder and grinning.

The camera flashed once every minute and a half or so.

I’m sorry, pretty man, for the slow, awkward photoshoot you just had to do. You’re rocking the sweater, tho.

Kids Craft Event was stymied by the physically impossible instructions/materials that were given to me, leading to half a dozen rambunctious kids with nothing official to occupy themselves with for two hours while I basically did (a modified version of) the crafts for them. Much shouting and running and whipping each other with bits of yarn whilst gleefully repeating the word “lasso.” And I’m PMSing.

I love those kids but they are all lucky to be alive.

Then I came home and signed a lease. Like an official, proper one. Also signed a check my ass can’t cash for the first time LIKE A PROPER ADULT. (Dear landlord: please give soon-to-be former roommate her deposit back now so she can give it to ME so I can put it in my bank so I can cash that check.)

I am broke as hell but I have NO REGRETS AT ALL about the five dollars I spent on this here bottle of wine holy fuck.

Oh god I put a roommate wanted post on Craigslist and I’ve been showing the room around and two absolutely lovely women both REALLY want to be my new roommate in a “no seriously give me some paperwork let’s do this thing!” sort of way and I haven’t even met the applicant who is my “wow we seem like we’d get on like a giant, blazing housefire” first choice yet which means I AM GOING TO HAVE TO BE A MAJOR ASSHOLE TO AT LEAST ONE PERFECTLY LOVELY PERSON MAYBE EVEN TWO OR THREE no one told me being an adult would include obligatory assholishness. (I mean, not RUDE asshole, but the sort of person who says “OMG I like you too you are totally my first choice I just have to let this other person see the place cos I said I would.” right to your face and then doesn’t let you move in to her vaguely-shitty-but-inexpensive-in-a-nice-area apartment.)

You would think the fact that I am now almost guaranteed to not be homeless in two weeks would calm me but instead my stress level has actually gained sentience and started making high pitched whining noises. I may have stolen a glass of Current Roommate’s shittiest liquor. I shall replace it with something better! But, you know.  HIGH PITCHED WHINING NOISES.

Tactical Error #27:

Unthinkingly giving your go-to Fake Name to Flirty Drug Dealer #3 when Flirty Drug Dealer #1 knows your real name. This is gonna be ugly. “Heeeey, [Name 1]!"  "Whassup, [Name 2]!"  ”…“  ”…“

"It’s not a fake name!  It’s my middle name.  I wear it on my nametag at work so when I’ve been working all day I forget sometimes that it’s not my real name, heh."  This is the lie that I have prepared and will hold in reserve.

I swear, walking past that corner is the most exhausting ten seconds of my day, and it happens twice.  Every day.

Surreal Thing: Downloading a social urban exploration mobile game, firing it up in your bedroom… and recognizing a username associated with one of the closest physical game locations as being from LiveJournal/Tumblr/General Fandomspace.