No Day But Today

After what seems like an HOUR waiting for the damn password recovery email because my dumb-ass forgot it, I finally sign back in to begin my very first post. However, this will not be my first post ever... There is another "xanga" that hides deep within the depths of the internet that, thank blog, I remember the password for and change every post's privacy settings so only I can read my most intimate adolescent thoughts. How funny youth is. I digress.
It's taken me forever to have enough time and energy to sit down and apply myself to this. I work two jobs now to support my lavish spending ability that I manage to utilize so well, especially when I should be saving. I won't divulge any information at what I do; I'll just say I like the one better than the other. But I've been so exhausted lately that by the time I get home I have to fight my eyelids from closing on me. The upside to that is I've learned to squint without squinting.
Anyway.
I just moved to Sinful City in February thinking I was going to start over, build my own life again. Yes, I've done that, but having recently decided to join the Air Force has taken my life and massively tweeked it.
"A Gay in the military??? NEVER!"
I'm a little nervous, but the thing that keeps me going with this decision is the free education I'll be getting out of it. And who cares, after 4 years, I can move on to bigger and better things.
Anyway.
After the move to Sinful City, I bum it for a week. I don't even try to go job-hunting. Then wambam-thank-you-ma'am, the very first day I apply, I get an offer. I'm amazed at how fast I get hired and it makes me feel special, but I find out they were just understaffed. Ha. Then I decide I need more money, because that new Kenneth Cole bag isn't going to pay for itself (Don't worry, I bought it last week). And by the grace of the gay gods, I get a phone call from Cute Cafe (I wanted to work there in the first place) after a very disappointing stint at starbucks, and they offer me the job. Glory be!
Now this is a trip. It's nice in there, and I'm proud to represent the place, but some of the people I work with are quite the characters. Of course, I fall in love with with the straight Octapus right off the bat, mostly because he's funny and maintains eye contact. Then there's Indie Ian, who's 24 but still has that high-schooler complex about life, where anything you haven't heard about is cool until it gains a following and the question "what do you do?" refers to your hobbies instead of your career. It's laughable.
And so here I sit, in my state of anger/disinterested annoyance because Creepy Coworker had the nerve to blow ME off about my small request to carpool to our manager's "going away party" by not returning my 3 text messages and 2 phone calls (that were each un-desperately two hours apart.) I tried calling the host of this ''party'' for directions to go myself, but there was no answer. I think it was right down the street, but really, who walks to a party, or arrives alone for that matter? I mean really.