In the past month I have been shafted by four FOUR different guys...
that's one a week!
At first this was a painful realization, but then I was like, remember all the free food you got. Remember the free drinks. RIP summer of love 2012.

GOALS

By the end of September
at least one overnight hike roughly 30 miles
By the end of October
submit essay to literary journal
By the end of November
submit application to teach abroad
By the end of December
finish your zine for fuck's sake
By the end of January
have functional freelance writing website up to pander
By the end of February
significant progress in half marathon training

just some stuff

Me, on a first date.

I set down my drink.

"Well, I'd say sharks are in my top five fears, but also my top three interests..."

I really know how to charm men as long as they are as weird as me.

I've learned some worrisome things about myself lately-- I will always, always, always, want whichever boy in my life is being shittiest to me at the moment. That's how my heart works.

i will make you love me again

by making you a mixed tape with all the best iron maiden songs on it

In light of certain circumstances- stressful relationships, drinking too much, heinous period aches and the fact that I slept four hours last night- I was a bit pissier than usual at work today. I have known for a long time that I am not entirely well suited to customer service, although my predisposition towards passive aggression serves me well in this industry because I can be extremely shitty to people, they pick up on it, and I don't even have to say one entirely rude comment.

This week I have been banned from choosing Pandora stations to listen to after offending customers and coworkers with the following stations: Heavy Metal, Summer Hits of the 90s, Rihanna, and Black Sabbath. This was a blow to my morale. In addition this geriatric asshole named Dick (short for Dickhead) hits on my like crazy, I had to plunge a toilet twice, and some guy called me a bitch for refusing to make him a frappe, like, two minutes before we were going to close.

Fuck you and your frappe.

Here's some etiquette for coffee shop patrons:

Don't even come in 10 or 15 minutes before close

If you must, don't order sandwiches, frappes, milkshakes, etc.

Just because you tip well does not mean you are owed conversation

Don't look at your barista's boobs

Leave hella good tips

Don't be a bastard, let the employees rock out to Anthrax, OK? Don't complain.

Yet, there was a comfort in that, and in one another we succeeded in fulfilling the needs of that moment- a lean summer spent half drunk, half dressed, in front of an open window off old Route 66.

A line from a piece of creative nonfiction that I am unabashedly spending all of my time working on lately. This is probably so evocative only to me because I lived it, but it struck me as a perfect, romantic summation of a recent relationship.