At least I don't trace, right?

These are just a few pieces of art I've done that I wanted to share because it makes me feel cool. The first one is a drawing that I uploaded to my computer and accidentally painted black (which, obviously, made it 100x better), the second one is a painting I'm going to do soon, and the third is a painting I did just the other day.
I wish I could claim these for sure, but I have to admit that none of these came out of my head, the internet inspired them. But hey, they're still admirable ;)

Sunday driving on Tuesday

I drive like an asshole. It's not on purpose (at least most of the time), it just comes naturally.
I think it also comes from a general lack of knowledge on "how" to drive. I'm the one that's like "Is it legal to turn here? Well, I've got to go somewhere..." andddd I'm turning.
I go at least 5 miles above the speed limit, and for God's sake don't break going DOWN the damn mountain, you need that momentum to get up the next one!
I try to be considerate, but I've got to be honest, it just doesn't happen. Usually when I'm in my car, it's because I need to go somewhere, and FAST as I'm usually about five minutes late. So yeah, I drive like an asshole when people are out taking their Sunday drives on a Tuesday before I go to work.
I can proudly say that I've only flicked someone off once and it was because I was trying to pass them (in a passing lane, I'm not THAT bad you know), and they took it upon themselves to occupy both of the stinking lanes!! I was beside myself at such idiocracy.
I also can't help but blame a little, tiny, itty bitty, part of this mentality on my parents.

Me: Dad! Why aren't you using your blinker??
Dad: Fuckers behind me don't need to know what I'm doing!

Oh, the beauty of it.

Life in the tip jar

I've been struggling with this very common writers block called "laziness." It effects my ability to string together anything coherent enough to write. For your information, yes, it's still in effect, so you'll just have to muddle through this with me:) Also, I just finished watching a Harry Potter movie so as I'm typing it's in a British accent, I do believe that will not help things along quite nicely at all.

I'd like to start by saying that I hate the last few posts I put up, they're all me being whiny bitch crazy girl. I've made the conscious decision to not have any guys in my life for a while as it's apparent they make me bat shit insane. The fact that I don't know what I want proves that I really shouldn't be wanting anything at all. Of course, that doesn't mean that sometimes late at night I don't feel the need for a nice, tall, handsome stranger to come and sweep me off my hopeless size 8 feet
That, however, will not happen unless I'm literally dreaming.
Or if I've been sucked into an alternate universe.
Or if I get a genie in a bottle (but not Christina Aguilera, someone less pretty).

ANYWAYS

the point that I'm really going to hit on for this post is my job as a waitress. I know I talk about it a lot and my friends probably hate me for it, but it does take up a pretty big presence in my life. Sometimes it's truly great, I get to laugh with my "co-workers" and meet some really wacky people, and then sometimes I get bitched at by my boss just because he's cranky, and occasionally people make high demands and then leave a shitty tip.
I don't make much, but I'd say I've gotten a lot of experience. I'm ashamed to say I didn't know how to make tea before I started working. I didn't know that you couldn't mix old ketchup with new ketchup (whoops). I didn't know that when you get your straw paper all over the damn place some poor girl has to pick it up because it's the herpes of trash. It seems to never go away.
I never thought about how when you pick up two people's drinks you better be damn sure whose drink is whose when you bring them back. I never wondered who had to meticulously make those little dressing cups that you so easily pour over your salads.

Yeah, I'm only making 3 something an hour, and I do a lot of work. So when you make me bring your obnoxious child three different drinks until one suits, or you ask a million questions I have to pretend to have the answer to, or when I have to clean up the unbelievable mess you left behind you, a tip would be appreciated.
I know it's a pain and you feel like you're throwing hard earned money away, but I'm working hard too. Just a tip on tipping. It's polite and it will greatly improve my view upon your character.

Also, I know when you call in a pick up or a delivery order you want a time to go by, but I'm not a fucking psychic. I have about as much of a clue as you do. When you make me give you a time, I'm not lying, but I'm sure as heck guessing. I know it won't stop you from doing so, but be sure to take the time lightly because it's not a sure thing. Unlike my smile ;D

I feel the need to end this post with a few confessions since it's been a while since I've had to do any of these:

1) tomorrow is my mom's birthday and I haven't even gotten her a card (awful, I know! But it's so hard when she buys herself stuff all the time, what's left to get her???)
2) I gave a guy my phone number just for shits and giggles and I'll admit to being a little hurt that I never got a response.
3) I have 44 or so school days left of my high school career
4) I killed my fourth fish the other day. He lived to be a little over a year old, but still. I'm a bad fish mommy... RIP Mr. Richards.
5) I'm procrastinating my homework by writing this post right now.