Next time someone asks me what I plan to do after college with an Art Degree (assuming I even graduate haw haw), I'm going to tell them I'm going to be an alcoholic housewife. Hell, I'm already half way there! (not really)

Excuse me, I need to go find a reasonably well-off husband.

Last night I a fucked up dream where I died. I was crossing the street and this big truck started turning and ran me over. I could feel my body being dragged across the pavement under the tires a few yards. I didn't really feel pain, but was distantly aware of it, and everything got all fuzzy but I could still sort of hear people screaming in horror and feel my blood pooling around me.  I woke up with the most wicked pain in my abdomen and spend the morning doubled over in my bed until it went away. Worst ovulation pain (?) I've ever had.

So I guess that answers the question: if you die in a dream, do you die in real life?

No, no you do not.
 

I find myself feeling more and more like Esther from The Bell Jar these days.

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story.  From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked.  One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out.  I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose.  I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

So, recently I thought I'd try some BPAL scents, even though I have but one bottle of perfume that has lasted me like, 5 years, so that shows how much I use that kind of thing. BUT since they are being raved about quite a bit on the internets and I do love good smells I thought, what the hell? I liked a few of the samples, loved one and and suddenly I found myself ordering two bottles and a bunch more imps.

Sweet merciful jesus WHAT HAVE I DONE?

Note to self: Do not make "your mom" jokes to someone who's mom recently died.

I hate Petsmart. 

So Tampax has this new campaign to aid the poor African girls who can't go to school when they get their periods because they 'don't have protection.' The way to help them? Buy more tampons.

Um.

Women have lived and worked while on their periods for thousands of years before disposable tampons and pads even existed. I think they can deal.
I wish they would put this money into a REAL cause that would actually help them.

Why the FUCK can't people do some research before getting a pet? Or even after if they really had to get that animal the moment they saw it. Is it that hard to pick up a book? Or just Google it? Come on people. I am going to strangle the next person who comes to me asking if their DESERT reptile needs some kind of heat lamp. Are you kidding me? Or the next person who thinks they can keep male and female rodents together and wonder how they ended up with 3964957380385 babies. Or the next person who wonder why the hell there is a fuck load of algea and their fish keep dying in the tank that has never had a water change. Ever. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?
I mean, seriously, what are these people thinking trying to keep a living creature without finding out a single thing about it? Would you have a baby and not learn how to care for it before it was born? (Ok well, some people don't, sadly.) But Christ, it's ridiculous the messed up things people do in their ignorance. A lot of it you'd think they'd know with simple common sense, but don't.
Also, just because I work at a pet store does not mean I am an expert on the entire animal kingdom or that I know everything about every pet store product ever. Nor will I magically come up with an easy fix product to reverse whatever you fucked up. Sorry, yelling at me doesn't help. >=(

And finally, there is no "back room."

My mother is going to make my next therapist rich.

There's been this cat hanging around our house lately. She sits all day and all night in this pot in front of our door. Because I'm soft I let her in our garage at night and give her a little bit of water and towel to sleep on because I don't want her to be cold, and of course my mom was the one that started feeding her. We're not sure what to do with her, she looks like she's been wandering around for a while.
I guess she's decided she wants to stay, no matter what she waits patiently at the door. *facepalm* What is it with strays showing up at our house and moving in? This will be the second time a cat has decided to adopt us. They must sense we're suckers.

I'm sick and its my day off and I still have to go to work. Laaaaaame.