I have some complaints. Not terribly rational complaints, but complaints nonetheless. They are as follows:
1. Why, oh why am I always the last one to watch a new episode of Who? *glares at download*
2. After a day spent begging every likely employer in the neighborhood to at least glance at my resume, I have come to the conclusion that I will be sad, nannying, and broke for the remainder of my colorful but ultimately fruitless life.
3. I was supposed to sit for Kate and Sophie tonight, but their mom just canceled.
4. I should move. I need to move. I want to move. I want to move into the pretty green house on the pretty street and live with nice roommates who are nice and not imaginary like the ones I have now. I met the roommates today, and they were nice and thought I was nice. The landlord? I'm not so sure. (Doesn't she realize that I am universally loved wherever I go?)
5. The NBC website won't let me watch 30 Rock or The Office without skipping in a way that is sure to send me into a homicidal rampage.
6. My left foot itches.
7. I've run out of complaints.
1. Why, oh why am I always the last one to watch a new episode of Who? *glares at download*
2. After a day spent begging every likely employer in the neighborhood to at least glance at my resume, I have come to the conclusion that I will be sad, nannying, and broke for the remainder of my colorful but ultimately fruitless life.
3. I was supposed to sit for Kate and Sophie tonight, but their mom just canceled.
4. I should move. I need to move. I want to move. I want to move into the pretty green house on the pretty street and live with nice roommates who are nice and not imaginary like the ones I have now. I met the roommates today, and they were nice and thought I was nice. The landlord? I'm not so sure. (Doesn't she realize that I am universally loved wherever I go?)
5. The NBC website won't let me watch 30 Rock or The Office without skipping in a way that is sure to send me into a homicidal rampage.
6. My left foot itches.
7. I've run out of complaints.