Oh, and by the way...

That last post was number one-hundred.

Thank you, lovely readers, for sticking around through one-hundred ramble-icious, whine-acious posts. More to come.

:)

<3

~J*~

If There Are Any Filthy Rich People Reading this, Would You Mind Buying Me A Quaint Little Place to Live?

Yes, I just said "quaint."

But for seals, like... I can't live here after I turn eighteen. If I'm still stuck living with my mother... let's just say keep a lookout for the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Or seven. Or however many there are.

I'm tired of being controlled. And I'm tired of being yelled at and called a liar. And I'm tired of being told that I think with my dick. Not in so many words, but, you know, pretty much. No, I don't want to just spend some time with my boyfriend snuggling and watching TV, I'm a teenage boy, so I MUST only want to have sex with him!! Perfect sense, right?

If you agree, go away. Now.

So I really need a job so I can start saving up big time. It's only going to be minimum wage, but I think minimum wage is like, seven bucks an hour now... I just need to start saving for all the things I want. Maybe I'll get something published and rake some extra cash in for a piece of shit used car and the cheapest driver's ed I can find.

Or something.

I don't know.

Does anyone know how to get published?

PLEASE tell me if you do.

~J*~