Oh thank all that is holy and merciful, I have a job again. My fake workplace, the place that'd laid me off in the first place and for whom I've been freelancing since September, asked me to come back for reals, y'all.
YAY!!!!!!! And also "word." I am so street, with my use of "for reals."
Edsel, my brastrap and I would like you to join us in 39 seconds of happy dancing.
I know. I don't have my usual reckless June dancing abandon. I have the plantar, you know. It hampers the inhibitionslessness that is June.
Last night, Ned took me out to celebrate.
Look here, Ned and your portrait of "Wooo! Celebrating!" You are JUST GONNA HAVE TO GET OVER IT, with the hating-your-picture-taken thing. You're dating a blogger, yo.
Apparently I got a job as a gang member.
Here's me, celebrating, and can anyone tell me why the iPhone takes crappy pictures once you swirl it around to look at you? There are two phones in there, the rear-facing and the forward-facing, and whatever face of Eve I'm using when I make it look at me and take a picture is absurd compared to the look-at-Ned camera. Why? Why can't they make 'em BOTH good? Why can't they make the WHOLE PLANE a black box?
Anyway, yay. Am employed again. After 15 months. I would not have even LIVED or been able to KEEP MY PETS without Bank of Family, so thank you Bank of Family. And thank you to the people who put money in my tip jar. Somehow I managed to not ruin my credit and stay fat, so go me!
I had better get to...work. SQUEEE!