It's a motherfucker.

I nearly woke everyone up this morning with the word motherfucker. I stubbed my toe on a speaker.
It's good and bruised now but everything moves in the right way and no longer hurts.
At work I find a note. A full side of A4, so a long note. Adam had wrote it last night, saying how Rob had done nothing and he is just a general cock.
This pleased me because I'm hoping he gets fired or thrown somewhere else.
Despite all the extra work I had to do, it felt good.
We all had a chat about how to get him fired. I love how it doesn't matter how old you get, you'll never fully grow up, it was just like being at school.
I'm well ripped now as I had to rearrange the whole of our freezer. A task made all the harder because the only free space in said freezer is no wider than the crates.
Quite literally though, I am ripped. My muscles decided to grow faster than my skin so now I have the most bitching stretch marks on my arms. Good job I'm not a woman.

I have thirteen days until my interview. The panic isn't setting in and I'm not sure if it will.
I look at what I have done and I think it's an appropriate amount. I did maybe forget about my sketch books for most this month, they are bare.
I'll fix that as so far next week is only a four day week.
I need to get all my photos printed too, then stuck in a pretty book in a pretty fashion.
One thing that I should sort out, I don't really know what to say. I doubt that I will dwell on this, wing it on the day. And there is no point creating some good looking answer which is transparent. No, I'll go for the honest, top of my head approach. It's worked fine up until now.

And who cares about that anyway? Exactly a week after that interview nothing will matter because I will be seeing Third Eye Blind and then what else will I need to do with my life. Anything after the thirteenth of May is an added bonus.
My stomach remembered about seeing Third Eye Blind this morning. Oh what a wonderful feeling.