tuesday

I'm working 'till nine tonight, then off for three days. They've only got me working two days next week, which is really cool but will really suck on payday.
I need to come up with a plan, a money making plan. I kept seeing these ads around for egg donors. No one wants to have the manic, ulcer-ridden, pot head punks baby. Oh no. They want the five-eight, blonde, blue eyes genius. (I wonder if they ever find this mystery girl to give them their uber-baby?) I'm only five six. My hair's kinda auburn. Eyes=cow shit brown. My SAT score was only twelve hundred. I could have done better but I only took it once. Who wants my spawn? Come on, the kid probably won't be crazy promise. Seriously, I'll sell you my eggs. I'm not using them.
No? Fine. It's for the best anyway. I would have blown all the money on, what's that HankIII song?, whiskey, weed and women(?).

So, yeah, I'm feeling better. Still not hungry. But not curled up on the floor in a heap of burning and stabbing pain in my belly. I even left the apartment last night and saw some of my peeps. Then got fondled in the chat room. It was a good night.
I'm not brave enough to try and drink yet, so Drunk Tuesday is still on hiatus.