'Ello, loves.

So it's official. I'm leaving in 5 days! yay, me! It appears that no one is reading this, and seeing as i have enough emotion bottled up inside me, it seems to be a great plan to simply use this as a journal. Yeah. I'm soooo bored today, and I've officially decided that if I ever become one of those crazy bingo people like the ones at work, i will do the world a favor and put them out of my misery. These people are CRAZY.

Old Scary Women
Treasuring stupid luck charms
Why'd I take this job?

One woman wears the same shirt every monday and saturday.
Another carries a troll doll with bingo chips hot glued to it.
Those people are horrifying, but hey, there's free food.

Lucky Me, this is my last day. For a while, because I get to go and see my wonderful grandmother in the wonderful just-below-the-radar small town and her nice churchy friends ('cause hey, everyone over 40 is like that when you live below the mason-dixon line). It'll be great. The flea markets, the walmart, the department stores where i can actually get clothes i've never seen before.

So anyway, it seems I have run out of conversation topics. Let me just say, it's harder that you'd think, keeping yourself interested when conversing with yourself. So um, without further ado or adon't,

RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE DAY

If we eat french toast,
And we call it that,
If someone in France eats some,
What do they call it?
Does this happen with anything else?
Like 'French Fries'?
Or... other things we call French?
I don't know,
no wonder Europe hates us.
Thanks a lot, Bush.