if you drop the soap pick it up, use it, then smack me across the face with it, please

Here’s a word of advice. If you go to a massage therapist, please make sure you’re clean. Not that you took a shower in the morning and you assume you’re okay. Just take a moment and make sure before you walk in that you are really and truly clean. I don’t want to tell what brought this on. It was enough to live it once. Just make sure you’re clean, because you don’t know what your massage therapist may be going through, and the last thing he or she should have to deal with is a client they think is happy and clean and then finding out they are not. Really, life sucks enough. Don’t add to it. And while we’re on the topic, if you don’t have back hair, yet somehow manage to have three to five random hairs that are over four inches long, CUT THEM OFF!

Moving along in the life sucks category (I made it almost twenty-four hours since my resolution of avoiding certain topics—fuck it), I had decided I needed to get a roommate. Let’s just say I am drowning financially. Drowning. It wasn’t enough to be drowning emotionally and mentally, money needed to be drowning to make it an nice even three. I thought I had a friend that was going to move in, but he his now planning on moving out of state. Good for him. Whatever. So, I thought I should probably post an ad online. On Friday night, I did. I described what kind of roommate I would like (leaving off that I would appreciate if they were rarely here), how much I would charge in rent, and letting them know about Dunkyn and Dolan. Ever since, I have just had this sinking feeling. Just an ugh in the pit of my stomach that kept telling me that something wasn’t right. Maybe it is wishful thinking that Chad would come back (don’t forget to breathe in the midst of your laughter), maybe it is just denial that my money situation is as bad as it is, maybe it’s because whoever this person is would come in a murder me in my sleep—what a pitty. Regardless, I took the ad off today. The ugh feeling is gone. I would have had to continue to do massage anyway (which would have been harder with a roommate—difficult to relax when someone is tramping around on hardwood floors), so I figure I just need to find a way to do even more massages than I was doing. So, no roommate for Brandon, I am free for the love of my life to return. A-Hahahahahahhahahahahahahahhahahahah

hahahahahhahahahahahahahhahahahahahahhahahahahahha

hahahhahahahahhahahahahahahhah

ahahahhahahahahahhahahahaahhhhahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

hahhahahahahahahah

ha