touchy

Now, I'm a touchy person with my friends, and I love giving hugs, high fives, holding hands, etc., but I like to do those things with people I know. Not just anybody. Particularly not you, drunk dudes at a late-night wedding reception who touch my hair, my side, who try to walk me to my car with my hand tucked through your arm. Who want to *kiss me.* No. N-O. No.

/rant

Thank god for a handful of redeemers; otherwise, I would give up on the male race entirely.

Pretty much Rob and Melissa are the two cutest people on the entire planet. True story! Last night was beautiful; I am paying for that beauty full-force now, however. I am only one hour into my ten hour shift, and I feel myself drooping like a daisy in the shade. As in, after two cups of coffee I can barely keep my eyes open long enough to type this. That's what I get for staying up until 1:30 on a worknight, sleeping for three hours in my car in the cold underneath a tiny jacket, and waking up at 4:30 to move to a van to sleep for a scant two more hours (but at least that part was with a friend, under a sleeping bag, not freezing. thank god.).

Friends are wonderful! I like people (sometimes)! I got a week off next month to go to New Orleans! I have a job! The sun still shines! I can still write! I haven't messed around with anyone and ended up regretting it lately! I'm learning how to make souffles!

These are all good things.