what is this goddamn life for? this weekend was a fucking hell at work. constant streams of people for hours on end. never enough people to cover the checkouts. never enough people to get anything done. never enough shit to do. i swore to myself at this time last year that i would never, ever go to another plymouth dance. i went. an exchange student (who i am helping with english and shit) asked me to go. rather sheepishly, i said yes...but realized (all too late) on saturday night that it was a bad choice. i had no desire to do anything but sleep after work last night. my day sucked. plain and simple. i got home...showered, etc. i had just gotten out of the shower, and my date came to the door. (shit.) i felt like a real bitch. he never understood that i would be late to the dance...so he called while i was at work and wondered where i was. (i suck at life. at everything.) so i walk out into the living room, and i... fuck. i'm just a fucking bitch. i could tell he wasn't having fun at the dance. he couldn't dance. he saw our friend martin dancing with my sister (salsa, like any sudamericano should...) and he tried, but he has no sense of any rhythm. the poor boy. i tired him out, bored him half to death. and i still got a little kiss on the cheek. i never know how to act around people.