Bleh. I can’t sleep. A meal at the Melting Pot can cost over $100/person and their parking lot is packed. This is the story of my time. I can’t find a job, I’m not going to apply at Pizza Hut, and I have not yet figured out how to make money off this thing. Then I find out the plasma people don’t give much in these parts and no one has come calling about my eggs, which I thought were pretty valuable. One of my friends just had an abortion and two more are getting married. My family is too far away. I’m supposed to be a writer but I can’t find enough to say or the will to make it sound pretty. I guess I’ll go read a book… Maybe I should do a garage sale next week.