June 15, 2002 :: 10:09 p.m.
waiting with baited breath for the end of the world
First things first: Joe and I finished the first season of Buffy tonight! Woo! I'm all excited and stuff. The last episode fucking rocked. Not that the others didn't too, but you know, it rocked extra hard. Like Ozzy Osbourne or a slab of granite. We're going to watch the second season in a week or so, when Amber and Danny (the people he's staying with) take Madeline (sp?)(their daughter) to the beach for a week. It's going to be a motherfuckin' Buffy marathon, yo! I may wet myself.
Anyway. I'm sitting here eating Pringles. Fat-free Pringles, yes, but that's not the point. The Pringles are merely a symbol of the actual problem, that being that I CAN'T STOP EATING. You thing I jest? I only wish this were a jesting (heh) matter! I started on this "let's eat well and lose some weight" kick about 3 months ago. In the first two months, I lost 11 pounds. All was well. Then I started working at Bagel Lovers. We opened in the beginning of May, and since then I've gained four pounds. Now, if I weighed 105 pounds or something, that wouldn't really be a problem. But I don't, so it is. It's a very, very large, disgusting, depressing problem. It makes me want to sew my mouth shut with fishing line, or go out and get a bottle of Epicac to keep in my purse. Seriously, it's sending all these horribly unhealthy thoughts through my head. I don't know what's wrong with me. I do so well when I'm not at work... well, I used to. Lately it's been one big, fattening binge party, 24/7. I'm at a loss about what to do, but I know I have to do something, because I can't deal with this anything.
"How are you, Amanda?"
I'd be better if you shot me.
(This concludes the portion of the entry where I speak to myself. Please keep arms and legs inside the car at all times. Thank you.)
*sigh* Moving on. Work was all right. I have off until Thursday again, which is *insert Spanish accent here* excellente. When I got off I went to Colonial Park to go to Borders, and I popped into Target to say hi to Adam while I was there. He was being a check-out bitch tonight, so I couldn't stay and talk to him. *pouts* Alas. Then the Borders thing went down. Exciting. Or not. Really, not. Buffy followed, and now I'm home. Oooh boy, what a day. Any more action and I may have had to be rushed to the ER. The Hawk Mountain excursion has been confirmed (roger that, captain), so I'm heading over to get Adam (brother) at around 10. It should be fun, and god knows I could use the exercise. Adam (boyfriend) was invited to come, too, but he works tomorrow. I'm very sad about that. Very very. Hopefully I'll get to see him for a bit in the evening, though.
What else to say, what else to say? There was a marathon/race/running event of some sort in Harrisburg today. As per usual, it took place directly outside of my workplace. Granted, this one circled the capitol building, also, but still. Hundreds of people sprinting down the street with numbers taped to their chest is a disturbing sight at nine in the morning. Stewart was two hours late due to a freak oversleeping incident, so Freida and I were all crazy in the morning. Roy came to the rescue as soon as he could, though, 'cause he's the best manager ever. People kept ordering capuccinos and lattes and mochas, all the fucking coffee drinks that take some time to make. Grr. There were two of us until Roy got there. I took the orders and cashed people out, Freida made the food. There was a line of customers out the door, some woman called in a big order, and in the middle of it all these loafer-wearing yuppies want their morning double skim mocha chills and single lattes with a shot of fucking hazelnut. Blah. Go away. It's like a mantra: Go away, go away, go away. Go home! Nuke some milk and mix it with coffee; there's your capuccino, buddy, and you don't have shell out $3 for it, either.
God, I need to work in a hermetically sealed cube. Someone find me a job where I get to sit in front of a computer all day and listen to music and type and never have any human contact.
I'm going to do a whole bunch of nothing. Write in my dad's Father's Day card and read and stuff. Huzzah.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
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