There are no mistakes in life...

...only consequences to your actions.

That's one of my favorite sayings of all time, and I got it from Dawson's fucking Creek.

Yeah, I said it. Kevin Williamson and the writers had some choice lines in that show.

You know who else has some choice fucking lines? Politicians. Either they're funny or they're unintentionally funny. Either way, I get sheer and utter amusement (befuddlement?) out of them, and it shows. A lot. Take, for instance, last night. I've been wrapped up in the craziness that's been the presidential election, and that VP debate was enough amusement to have ALL the ladies at my night job glued to the screen.

All of us are rooting for Obama, but I was more even-handed about my criticism than most; I was quick to point out when Palin said "Talibani", but I was just as quick to point out when Biden said "Bosniacs."

And, don't get me wrong, I've been a public speaker for at least 6 years now, and God knows it's hard to get in front of people and talk about anything - but for the love of guacamole! Talibani? And Bosniacs?

*****

My birthday was this past Wednesday. It was great and it was heart-wrenching, and maybe I'll get into it, but if I do it'll be some other time. All that's certain after my birthday having passed - besides the fact that despite my quips and their quirks, I really do have a sincere and true affinity for Rob's family - is that I didn't make my self-imposed deadline. That's right: I haven't yet finished my collection of short stories. And that kinda sucks.

For the most part, it sucks because now I know that I'm really too busy trying to earn a buck to actually sit down and write. For another thing, I just wanna get this thing over with. I've cast off all of my reasons to be "humble" about my talent. I want to show off my skills and get the acclaim I deserve.

Speaking of which, The Musing Broads site has been doing well. I know this because I've received over a dozen emails, texts and calls from people telling me that they love the site. Only, for some reason, no one's actually commenting on the damn thing. Why?!

*****

I have to admit, I'm loving the ability to work and work and work and love working. It's taken me a long time to get to this point, and I'm damn proud of it. There used to be so much inner conflict radiating from the topic of MONEY, in general. Now, I only see black-and-white, dos-and-don'ts, and ins-and-outs. I still spend too much for my own good, but I'm not exactly po'. And I'm loving life to the fullest extent. Can't nothin' beat that.

SO the job hunt is momentarily called off, and the money is momentarily flowing in. And next week, I'll be devoting a large chunk of my time to writing and apartment hunting. Not that I'm exactly rollin' in dough, but I have enough stashed away that this prospect isn't entirely ludicrous.

And yes, children, if you happen along my site, take note that that's the right way to spell "ludicrous." Kudos to other musical acts for spelling out the right way to write their moniker. Even if it's in every fucking song. Maybe it's their way of improving literacy in America, I dunno. I'm just sayin'... Every little bit helps. Right, Fab?

*****

Oh, the joy that is in my heart right now for no apparent reason. Maybe it's because I woke up to a clean room and a warm bed and a boyfriend who's willing to go hours eating me out. Maybe it's because I'm so certain that I'm gonna bring home a G by the end of this week. Maybe it's because said boyfriend will actually be making monetary contributions to our lifestyle. Soon.

Yes, it's true: I might be packing my bags to leave his ass, but it's nice to have some help while I'm still here.

And, yes, it also helps that said boyfriend has purchased tickets for me to see Margaret Cho tomorrow night.

I fucking loooovveeee her.

Even better than said boyfriend having bought me two nice seats to Margaret Cho's show at Radio City is the fact that he's also given me permission to take someone else to the show. Rob isn't as into Margaret as I'd like, but my girl JC loves her almost as much as I do.

And that, ladies and gents, is how I make it work with Rob. Or rather, how I keep my sanity as things fall apart with him. I don't think about him as often as I probably should and I make sure to steer clear of conversations rife with agitating topics. I'm not there for him emotionally simply because I can't handle having to be so goddamn patient with one fucking person all the fucking time. But, I'm there for him on the immediate basis, for issues that are closer to home. [READ: Issues that affect/effect ME.] For other issues, there are pillows and other peoples' shoulders to cry on.

Yes, I love him, and yes I am bitchier than usual when I'm with him. But am I living, loving it, and refraining from lying to anyone? YES. Who can say the same?

*****

I guess, what it boils down to, is that I'm a hopeful bitch. There's a lot you can say about me. But "hopeless"? Just not one of em.