Remember that Unglamorous, Glamorous life I spoke about—well it’s over. I’ve been working my little, err, average-zised ass off! Double time, over time, full-time. My neck hurts and my back hurts. Oh and I know what you’re going to say, “Have you tried soaking?” Well, I took a bath last night but fell asleep in the tub before I got the chance to scrub my armpits.
I don’t even have time to be on this computer posting this blog but my fingers have been itching to complain about all the intensive labour they’ve been executing. My mind has been reminiscing lately. Back to the days where munching on soggy sugary cereal floating in colored milk, while watching Daria, was a normal past time of mine.
I fnnn loved that show. I suppose most of us did. She was bitchy with a dry sense of humor—always down to hate on folks with her best friend. She seemed a lot like me except for the lack of melanin. These days though, I feel like the character Jodie Landon; the African-American overachiever at Lawndale High school (which was set in an unspecific location outside of Baltimore). Jodie was definitely as intelligent as Daria but her intelligence was more of a survival technique. Jodie was more social than Daria. I on the other hand haven’t been able to socialize since last Saturday’s late-night drunken dance party on 21st st. I almost couldn’t control myself because it had been so long since I put on my dancing shoes. All work and no play makes Jane a drunken fool when you get a little alcohol in her.