I know that it's Sunday- at least that's what my calendar claims. I know that it's 8:17 pm right this very moment- at least that's what my phone tells me. I know that I'm pissed off about the fact that I've been summoned forced respectfully not really given a choice but to labor on "Labor day"… Continue reading POSTpartum Depression
If I had a penny for every single time I've whispered "what the FUCK" to myself by the end of any day- I'd be rich. I'd be able to pay off my credit cards. I'd be able to half-ass-afford my own Starbucks addiction without willingly overdrawing my bank account-I don't think you've been… Continue reading In Which I Layer Rants On Rants To Make A Rantwich and Then Sprinkle it With A Dash of Rant and Add a Side Of Ranting.