Current mood:	blah
Current music:	'Bring Me To Life' - Evanescence

Another birthday come and gone...
Well, I made it to 20. Who'da thunk it? Not that much different than 19 I suppose except for the fact that no one can use the word 'teenager' to describe me ever again (thank you God for small miracles). I swear, teenage hormones will be my undoing. Celebrated another year of my life going by in a very unlikely way...recruited help in the form of four male strippers at a local club in downtown. Good God they make getting a year older something to actually look forward to. I can tell you one thing: next year, 21st birthday...oh hell yeah I'm going back there. And that way I'll actually be able to buy my own drink! Well, I don't actually drink. Can't even stand the taste of alcohol really, but hey, at least I can say I went to a bar and _bought_ and alcoholic beverage (even if I do end up giving it to one of my friends). Aside from the male strippers, the male species as a whole is still managing to piss me off, but then again, what's new? Makes me wonder why women feel the need to have children and essentially run the risk of bringing more of said male species into the world just to aggravate us. Sure we love them to death, but more often than not we just can't stand them. Therefore I am voluntarily dropping out of the so called 'single market.' Simply because I'm tired of men in general. If I wasn't so attracted to them I'd say I was a lesbian, but since I'm not attracted to women at all I'm not gonna pretend. That would just be too damn weird. As far as work goes...well, work is work. Eight hours a day tied up in drive-thru, having to hear that God-awful *ding* in my ear every single time a car pulls up. I've had _nightmares_ about that damn sound. It doesn't really help that my boss thinks I'm awesome at drive-thru so he continually puts me in it every day I work, no matter how long my shift is. I once had to work drive-thru for 12 hours straight, then go back to work 4 hours later and do it again for another 7 hours (it should've been 8, but thank God my boss had a heart and let me go home an hour later. I didn't even make it to my bed, I just collapsed on the sofa after telling my parents that if I didn't move for a few hours to just leave me there). What can I say though? It's a paycheck...one I'm very lucky to have even though most days I'd rather rip my all my hair out one strand at a time instead of go to work and listen to *ding* all frickin' day. I've got some very pushy people at work too. I really only get along with one of my bosses (she was at the strip club with us last Friday if that gives you an idea. I've got pictures of her that she made me swear never to show her husband...hehe...). Anyway, I can't really think of anything else to say other than I have to go to sleep so I can get up in 6 hours just to hear *ding* for the following 8 hours. *wanders off thinking of ways to break the microphone at work that won't make it look like it was done on purpose*