my smile says "I'm a two-faced bitch" and my nametag reads "lacey". I'm a till monkey.

I've spent the past two hours listening to the song My Last Goodbye by Mike Hale. I should've been sleeping, but I can't seem to make myself tired. It's a curious thing, this song. It's so depressing, but I love it to bits and will literally listen to it for two hours at a time. [Case in point: tonight.]

I'm done my Christmas job now, and I'm hesitant to say it, but I had fun. Sure, there were the stupid times that I couldn't remember how to do something or when I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. But it's the good times that I want to remember...like the time that really, really good looking guy from Ireland came to my till and proceeded to hit on me. I liked it. He was (and hopefully still is) hot. He told me he lives in Calgary and works with street people. He told me that he doesn't judge people by their appearance or first impressions, and that he likes dealing with difficult people. I think that's about when I offered him my job. He's pierced and wears leather. And did I mention he had an accent? I greatly admire him and I don't even know his name.

So, my new boss called and woke me up this morning. I'm so pumped for this job. Seriously. And then, after I made a really random (and perhaps out-of-place) posting on a friend's wall quite late last night, my mom thought I had a date today. Well, it wasn't. He's an old friend from church and we had coffee at Tim Horton's. We talked for an hour and a half and then he had to go record an audition he's sending to Humber College in Toronto. It was fantastic, to say the least.

"Oh yeah, I'm totally materialistic...just not about things that hurt the environment..." Tyler's response to my admission that I'm a member of the Green Party. Have I mentioned that he's amazing?

I don't believe myself to be overly materialistic, but when I hear about what others got for Christmas, it really just slaps me in the face all over again. Last year I got two or three books, a pair of longjohns that I never wore until tonight and a CD. That's it. This year I got two cookbooks, some lotion for when I'm working and some earrings that I absolutely adore. That's it. So far, from what I've heard, my friends have received a grand total of: an ipod touch, an ipod radio, a $3 000 diamond ring, a digital camera, really expensive jewelry, a new car...among other things. I don't usually compare like this, but it just kind of happens at Christmas, you know? The traditional greeting of "what did you get?" is heard everywhere, and it kills me. What I got for Christmas amounts to less than $50, and I know it, and it hurts. But I don't know why. It happens every year, and it's part of the reason why I loathe the season. I love the feelings, the snow and the songs, but give me extra (read: any) time with my bitchy relatives and I'll run faster than a cheap pair of pantyhose. In the opposite direction. I hate this. Really, I do.

So that was me 'not letting Christmas get to me.' I failed.

My New Year's Resolution: Get the hell out of this country and away from my family.

This is worth listening to; he's amazing.

I'm not sure what to make of this.

Please don't pray for me.

I want to see what's up with all this.

eight hours and counting...

I'm going to cry tomorrow. Probably around 10.30-ish. I'm going to miss the yahoos terribly. But I promised them I'd visit, so visit I shall.

I hate leaving a job I've learned to love. It's a love-hate thing, my relationship with my job. It's like in The Notebook when Noah says to Allie, "So it's not gonna be easy. It's gonna be really hard. We're gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you." (It was on TV when I got home from work, almost just at that spot. Hello coincidence? Thanks for kicking me in the face yet again...) Love is a choice. I love my job, and I'm going to miss it so much; but not, at the same time. It's weird. It's the people, not the job. I hate the job. I'm a robot on an assembly line; no more, no less. Just another cog in the great machine Montana's. I love the people. I'll miss the people.

I'm going to get pied tomorrow night. I know it. Meh, life goes on. It just means I'm loved.

But tonight was the first time in a long time I thought I'd walk out before my shift was over. It was stupid, really. But I still feel that I reacted in the best fashion in regards to the situation. Karissa was yelling at everyone on my side of the line (read: amanda and me), and would wait about a grand total of .25 seconds before asking for the same thing for the fourth time. Every time she would yell (louder, I might add), I would answer with a 'give me a sec,' or a 'yep, got that,' or 'let me check.' Finally, I just snapped and screamed (without actually screaming screaming. The people in the restaurant probably heard me, but that was the least of my worries) that I was getting on it right now. I swear eveything in the kitchen stopped for a second, and when you're dealing with a super fast-paced environment, a second seems like forever sometimes. This was one of those times, to say the least. Amanda and I do not deserve to be yelled at like we don't know what we're doing...by a sixteen year old with an overactive ego. When I said that to Amanda, this look of utter defeat crossed her face and it made me really sad to come to the realization that there are three people who run the kitchen, and I've just been shoved out of that elite group by letting it slip that tomorrow's my last day. The three people are Mark the Kitchen Manager (it is actually his kitchen like he says all the time), Eric the boy who started in dish when he was 14 and fought his way to seniority after 3 long years, and Karissa the sixteen year old girl with the ego problem.

Can I take this moment to say that I'm absolutely in love with the Autosave function on Livejournal? Well, I just did. So there.

Anywho, I spent the rest of my shift in the back, helping John clean. It's my least-favourite job there, but it kept me off the line and away from Karissa. So I spent the evening with the one guy who is actually able to touch/smack my butt without getting his ass kicked. He's the most non-violent person I know (besides me), and I know that I can trust him to not do anything to make me even want to kick his ass. And now that I'm done venting/spilling my guts, I shall sleep, wake and face my very last day at Montana's. It's all so final, growing up. Ow. That sound just now was my feeling getting squished. Ow.

I have this weird ringing in my ears and a strange swelling in my throat.

My throat's been hurting for the past about week, and it scares me so much that I'm probably going to the doctor unless it gets so bad that I can't talk again. Maybe this is my body's reaction to finding out that I'm working retail for the next two weeks of my life, starting wednesday evening. It's going to suck; walking back into the job straight from hell, during hell week. But it'll be worth it, I think. I don't have to spend 2 weeks cooped up in my mom's house, and I actually get to go outside once a day. It'll be good for me; not waiting around for all my friends, but making time for them, which will make it so much more fun. Although we have a blast just sitting in Stick's room, on her couch, talking of all life could be. I wish for those times, but I'm kind of glad they're gone.

Oh shoot! Time for my SECOND-LAST SHIFT AT MONTANA'S!!!! Tell y'all why soon.

Later days!

3 days!!

Oh my goodness, best week ever!

Also!

I'm uberglad that my eye is no longer pouffy.

I have no idea when it went away. My guess is that I was sitting in front of this curs'ed computer. I hate technology, but its presence in the school is making life a little easier right now, I guess. But I need to finish this beast of a research essay that's due today in T-minus 7.5 hours. Ew.

I'm melting in your eyes...tonight.

I need a vacation. Stat.

Emily Dickinson vs. Editors

Because I could not stop for Death—
He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves—
And Immortality.

We slowly drove—He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility—

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess—in the Ring—
We passed the fields of Gazing Grain—
We passed the Setting Sun—

Or rather—He passed Us—
The Dews drew quivering and chill—
For only Gossamer, my Gown—
My Tippet—only Tulle—

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground—
The Roof was scarcely visible—
The Cornice—in the Ground—

Since then—'tis Centuries—and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity—

Emily - 1
Editors (from back in the day) - suck

That is all.

11 days...

hopefully.

[hush] for a minute

soon one morning death comes creeping
through the room...
so hush, hush...
someone is calling my name
crying oh my lord, oh my lord
what should i do?

what i'm hearing: hush - bedouin soundclash