Well, okay... not true. You all know how I've been lately. You'll just be like "Oh, that Emu. That crazy drunken skankety-assed Emu and her crazy shinadigins."

I spelled that wrong.

So Thing 1 called me last night, right about the time that One Night Stand Guy and I started messaging back and forth on Facebook. She was like "Okay, if you have him over I have to be there too." So Thing 1 came over and we hung out for a bit, then he showed up... he lives in that crazy town with the population of 30 that's having the Edwin concert next week. Or later this week. Or whenever the hell it is.

Anyhoo.

Yeah. So we had a little party. It was kind of depressing, last night I was a depressed drunk, probably to make up for the fact that when I got drunk on Monday night I was an unusually happy drunk. And... yeah. Thing 1 and I left him in here while we went out on my balcony and had a deep freakin' discussion like we're prone to doing when we both are depressed drunk, which we have a tendency to be at the same time. Then Thing 1 worked her way up to the state of drunkenness that she decided it was a good idea to call the guy she only likes when she's drunk, and he came to pick her up. Then me and One Night Stand Guy went and, uh... he's no longer One Night Stand Guy.

I have a freakin' problem, you guys. In the past while I've discovered sex to be the main way, if not the only way, for me to feel validated as a human being. And that's not good. That's not a good way to look at it. That's not a good way to feel. And, it's like... that's not me. Loyal readers may recall my freakin' 5 year dry spell, which infamously ended on glorious 4/20 of this year when the world freakin' exploded, like it's prone to do with me. And... yeah. Since then I've been a different person. In a very hardcore way.

Anyways... I eventually pried myself off of this guy at about quarter to 8 this morning to call into work "sick". I'm quitting that fucking job tomorrow. Harsh harsh harsh harsh harsh. "You should have given us more notice that you weren't coming in." Yeah, well... at least I called. I was contemplating not calling at all. And at least I have the decency to freakin' go in there tomorrow to say that I won't be working there anymore. I could do it over the phone. Or I could just never have any contact with them again. It's going to be hard to go in there and look my boss in the eye and say "I can't work here anymore." And I'm going to be honest, I'm going to tell her that I'm just experiencing too many personal problems right now. Then as soon as I get that over with, I'm going to walk over to the doctor, tell them that I'm the closest to killing myself that I've been in a long time and that people have started commenting on how strange and depressed I've been acting this past little while, and pray that the guy actually puts me on something that will help.

Then I will go home, lie down, and not tell my mom that I just quit my job. Yeah, that's right. I'm not going to tell her. She knows I want to quit. She knows that I'm going to quit as soon as I can. She supports that. But I don't think she'd support how and when I'm doing it. So she doesn't have to know.

Oh, and to change the subject here... you know what Thing 1 told me last night? Apparently Angry Girl doesn't like me because she thinks I'm "creepy". I don't care that Angry Girl doesn't like me because I sure as hell don't like her, but to say I'm creepy? What the hell? That bugs me.

Anyways, I wanna go back to bed and think about what I've done and what I'm about to do.