So one funny story and that's it. So I was walking up the stairs at the Loading Zone and tripped. Very much tripped. I was holding two drinks and both of them went all over me. One in my hair and one on my shirt. Yay for being very graceful. I would like to blame drunk but drunk I was not. When I managed to get up, Good Old Fashioned Southern Boy was looking down at me having watched the whole thing.
The Postman offered me a place to live starting in August. Who thinks that would be a bad idea? I do. I think that would not be all that great an idea. His house is sweet and very nice but I am so much messier than he is and I don't think that would fly. I would basically have to just move clothes and books into his house or there would be too much chaos and mess.
Oh yeah, I am getting kicked out of my apartment. Sounds like fun, ehhh? There is a very long story here that I don't think I'm ready to share yet because I'm still that pissed off. So I am in search of a one bedroom apartment that doesn't cost much and is close to where I work. I don't see this as being an easy task. The hunt is on.
P.S. I have declared a state of celebacy for a while. I think sex is the last thing that I need right now. Or maybe it would make me feel better. But what I need is sex without strings or a relationship without drama. Doesn't happen in my life.
Lizz is coming to town. Hopefully, she can bring me some non-drama fun and I can just relax. This weekend is going to be great. Yeeehaw. Ride em cowboy ninja.