Hot. Mess.

Not the "hillarious" southern kinda mess. But the "girl, you got issues no matter what part the country you in" kinda mess.

It's official. Says me.

I've done some crazy stuff today. No...aside from spend 3.5 hours at a Florida rest stop (so safe...I mean they have armed gaurds because of those people down there that got shot at the rest stop...). Aside from completely rearrange all of my hoards of digi scrap stuff sot aht I could avoid actually scrapping anything because I'm scared to death I'll never measure up to my "Hall of Fame" status. Okay...aside from coming to work on a day when I (clearly) should have just stayed home.

I'm not beneath going the extra mile to get what I want. Especially if you lay it out there clear as day for me about what I'm supposed to do. I am a rule follower after all. Hello! So is it my fault that I read between the lines well? No. Is it my fault that I will "go there" just because I know no better? No. Is it my fault that I might get a ticket if I stay and type this any longer. Probably. So I'ma hop on off and just say that I am officially a hot. mess. I know it, you know it. We all know it. I'm a go home and do absolutely nothing but procrastinate on all the stuff I should be doing. And rub up on my bf. Maybe pluck his arm hairs out. He likes when I do that. Or just sit across from him and stare at him. Or I could be really cruel and make him pick out a picture of us for the CK folks that I have not already used on a layout (uhhhmmm...impossible) with the catch that if he picks three and they are no good, he has to sit for another one with me. That's cruel. And I love him so I won't do that. But I should go and pimp myself out for travel money. No not like that...like THAT! Right...