Sometimes I exasperate myself
May. 24th, 2010 08:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
angelchickenLike how when I go out with a guy and have a mediocre time and don't want to see him again and then he says, "hey! I want to see you again", and I say, "well, yeah, I think maybe no", and then he says, "well, you're not so much my type either" and then I say, "OMG WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!?!?!?"
. . .
. . . yeaaaaaaaaaaah.
So I am trying to be over the fact that I'm not the type of this guy who I am completely uninterested in and really we were doomed from the start because he's a pilot and I loathe flying.
In other news,FOUR FREAKING DAYS, OMJ!!!!!!!!
I can totally last four more days, I'm pretty sure. Maybe.
Also, I had my last appointment with my therapist today (she's graduating) and it was sad because she was pretty great and she also got me a little plant which was so sweet and she said it represents my transition into newer and better things and when I nurture and care for the plant I should remember to nurture and care for myself and now I have pressure not to kill the plant which is a problem because, frankly, I kill plants.
Hot Eric icon because True Blood s2 is out tomorrow and I am excited to not watch it in crappy youtubed pixellation.
Oh! Fun! I submitted my final application to National-Louis today and about ten minutes after I submitted it - when it was completely and totally irretrievable and out of my hands and control - I realized that I spelled National-Louis wrong in the written statement.
Twice.
The statement that says why I want to apply to this particular school and why I want to be a teacher and I can't even spell the damn school's name correctly (I spelled it National Lewis).
This was embarrassing.
So I emailed the school and they were cool and told me to just send along the corrected copy and at least I caught it, even if it was after the fact, but still.
Egg, meet face.
And I want to educate your children.
The moral of the story is:
Four more days.
And I have a 90 minute massage on Wednesday night.
The end.
. . .
. . . yeaaaaaaaaaaah.
So I am trying to be over the fact that I'm not the type of this guy who I am completely uninterested in and really we were doomed from the start because he's a pilot and I loathe flying.
In other news,FOUR FREAKING DAYS, OMJ!!!!!!!!
I can totally last four more days, I'm pretty sure. Maybe.
Also, I had my last appointment with my therapist today (she's graduating) and it was sad because she was pretty great and she also got me a little plant which was so sweet and she said it represents my transition into newer and better things and when I nurture and care for the plant I should remember to nurture and care for myself and now I have pressure not to kill the plant which is a problem because, frankly, I kill plants.
Hot Eric icon because True Blood s2 is out tomorrow and I am excited to not watch it in crappy youtubed pixellation.
Oh! Fun! I submitted my final application to National-Louis today and about ten minutes after I submitted it - when it was completely and totally irretrievable and out of my hands and control - I realized that I spelled National-Louis wrong in the written statement.
Twice.
The statement that says why I want to apply to this particular school and why I want to be a teacher and I can't even spell the damn school's name correctly (I spelled it National Lewis).
This was embarrassing.
So I emailed the school and they were cool and told me to just send along the corrected copy and at least I caught it, even if it was after the fact, but still.
Egg, meet face.
And I want to educate your children.
The moral of the story is:
Four more days.
And I have a 90 minute massage on Wednesday night.
The end.
