99 Problems...

and a bitch ain't one.


Damn skippy, man.

Here's the thing. I work my ass off. You have to, in this city. So I know that I am not the only one. In fact, most of the people I know run on a mixture of crazy hours, caffiene, social adulation and alcohol. So there is not much beyond working my ass off and blowing off steam and sleeping that I find myself tolerant of...

Someone pointed out to me the other day that most girls don’t get annoyed over the things that I do. Like, a boy being very obnoxiously persistent. If we’ve just started seeing each other, and I get three text messages, a voicemail and another call back before I have the chance to respond to your initial contact, ya done. It feels so invasive to me it almost makes me nauseous. If I just met you, nothing is that important. Reservations at Double Crown? Fine. Make 'em for 8:30 and I'll try to get there. It’s like I used to tell the kids when I was working at the daycare when they would put up this big dramatic fuss over nada, I'd say “are you bleeding? Are you killed? Can you see? Can you walk? Then you’re fine. Go play.” Most of the time, before I was done talking, they'd be laughing. I'm fine Miss Kelly. And you're silly.

Exactly. Life is too damn short to waste it on drama...says the flamboyantly over-acting female who can't tell a story without exaggerations stretching at least a mile long. I guess maybe I mean to say that it's too damn short to waste it on fake drama...

Eh, too tired to explain what I mean now...