OH, MY DEAREST. CANDLES!

=B
A couple of months ago, I ended my one year and eight month stint as a phone monkey to say hello to a life of freedom, rock and roll, late nights NOT working and NOT stressing over someone else’s problems, and general bad ass-ery. Of course, saying good-bye to my job and my only source of income meant I’d be saying hello to a life of (temporary) destitution.
And that, my friends, is the life I’m living now.
For the longest time, I’ve successfully ignored signing up for blog ads or services such as PayPerPost, Smorty, and a bunch of other sponsored posts sites out there. It’s not that I had anything against selling my blog entries to advertising; I even tried monetizing my blog before by placing Google Adsense in the most obscure part of my sidebar (the very bottom, in colors that matched my layout. Took them out for the meantime because I couldn’t figure out where to position them in this layout. HUH). It’s just that I never felt the need for them. Until now. And from what I’ve been hearing, it pays well. Really well.
PayPerPost asks: What are you going to do with all the money you earn!?!?!?! Yes, that much exclamation points and question marks. Tough question. I plan on earning thousands of dollars and I can’t decide whether or not to blow it on golden doorknobs for all the doors in our house or a boob job.
I vote boob job.
You know your life sucks when you’re 22 and you’re still doing shit you used to do when you were 16. In my case, IT’S FUCKING LARA CROFTING MY WAY INSIDE “MY” HOUSE.
I’ve been operating on the oddest schedule ever, odder than when I used to work nights (not as a prostitute, no). There’s nothing consistent about my hours and though I find myself assaulted with headaches throughout the day due to lack of sleep, I’m totally okay with it. I’ve also managed to keep my ditz moments to a minimum (just one this week!: I accidentally got in the wrong ride to take me to school). The consequence of having lover in a different timezone.
I’ve been up chatting with lover since 1am. I could use a cigarette, a mug of strong coffee, a line of coke, and maybe a cheap hooker…wait, no. But guess what? None of these exist or are allowed at my folks’!
Anyway.
Copyright Helga Weber | May 2008 | Sitemap | Top
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