(no subject)

I don't actually *believe* that I may go completely insane and start *truly* believing the new software is sentient and out to get me....

But this could change at *any* time.

Consider this. I am an obsessive checker of email. Starting this entry, it is ten twenty-eight PM CST. The first time today I have had the opportunity to get on my computer. And thsi is hwo far I've gotten in my friendslist.

Rainforest!Porn by celli. Well, it's magnificent anyway. *loves Celli* I'm telling you, the benefits of whining continuously for days outweigh the drawbacks. And man it's good.

And that software IS out to get me. I cannot merely consider it sleep-deprivation paranoia. I also canceled a dental appointment tomorrow because when I talked to my boss, she sounded Very Unhappy I'd be off.

Yes, that's me, plowed RIGHT under.

I'm making less sense than usual and am perfectly okay with that.

So, I broke one of the Rules of Boring Jenn Living tonight. I'm drinking a Mike's Hard Cranberry Lemonade (which, btw, seriously rocks), and am being completely unapologetic about the fact I am drinking A.) At all. B.) Non-socially C.) on a weekday D.) did I mention I rarely drink even when being social?

Yep, I am descending into the bowels of corruption. Someone, somewhere, should damn well be trembling. Who knows where this will lead?

Also, Henry the Interpreter refused to be social. Bastard. There goes YOUR hope of telephone flirtation, mister. Wherever you are.

I just glanced at my To_Read folder in the inbox and realized that there's a really good chance that anyone who doesn't know I have an LJ is probably going to think I died. Jesus, it piles up. How does it DO that? It must be email mating season--God knows, the spam seems to be on fertility drugs, and okay, again, seriously, I shouldn't be comparing everything to sex these days.

*kicks at story* It's this--this story's fault This one I started a few days ago by accident, thinking that I was going to be writing something entirely different, and was all excited until I looked at it and thought, man. This is depressing. And strangely, it only gets more so. Even the sex is depressing. What sex there is. I'm not even sure it qualifies. Penii are involved, but they aren't having that great a time and even they aren't sure what they're doing there.

*buries head in hands*

Just need to make it through tomorrow, then I can collapse. And do the Treasury stuff I'm just barely keeping up with. Then collapse. And not move. Like, ever.

And if you havne't yet, read this.

Cumulus by Kat Reitz and tzigane. This is--I really want to say sweet, but honestly, that's not nearly the right word. I like Clark here. I do. I really, really do.

Okay, going to wind down and remeber how my feet are shaped when they AREN'T up on three inch heels.