i'm not as think as you drunk i am

here i am, awake at an ungodly hour on a sunday morning, hungover and about to drive forty minutes to my new second job, which is the same as my old first job, but in a different town. wow, that was one sentence. anyways, it is now as i nurse coffee and water that i am maybe possibly regretting my decision to work two jobs. do i really need added stress in my life? is the extra money going to be worth my newfound lack of spare time? didn't i swear that my old job was evil personified and that i'd rather eat cow dung than ever have to work for them again? yeah, i vaguely remember that. but thirteen dollars an hour is thirteen dollars an hour.

i just hope none of my bank clients in the northwest suburbs happen to be shopping in the southwest suburbs. all professionalism would go straight out the window, and then i'd have to be held accountable for millions of dollars in losses. i also hope that if i have to answer the phone today, i'll remember which job i'm at and what i'm supposed to say. furthermore, i hope that just because i work at a bank, nobody expects me to balance the register tonight, because i am not a bank teller, and i would resent anybody insinuating that i am. finally, i hope the room stops spinning just a little bit, because going to work hungover is so 2001. where in the heck did my dignity go?

i can't wait until i (a) win the lotto or (b) get a big promotion. or (c) chris' salary quadruples over night and then i never have to work again. that would be the ideal situation; i'd just stay home and undermine the maid.

whoops, gotta go. until i return, please read the work of the lovely ferozan. she's my favorite sassy brit.