By hits, I mean website visits. Not bong hits or baseball hits or fist to face hits. Though that last option could be related.

Work. It’s an evil we must all deal with. My hours have been waining as of late, so I’ve been taking every opportunity to pick up a few here and there. While my shifts are, generally, short, this is my first day off since last Tuesday. Thank God, though. Last night, I got stuck doing a physical inventory count. My shift started at 5:30pm and ended at 4:00am. I got home at a lovely 4:40am. On most Monday mornings, I wake up at 4:45am to go in to work. Gah! The work was a bitch, too. Nothing like scanning UPC barcodes for 10 hours. By the way, if you walk into my store and claim you can’t find the CD you’re looking for, it must simply not exist.

“Love, it’s a motherfucker, huh?”

Ok, so I’m not in love by any stretch of the term, but I obviously like her. Who’s her? Well, it starts with an ‘M’ and ends with me tearing my hair out. This week was fun in that department. An ex decided she was going to cause a lot of issues and I spent a lot of time on the cell listening to the current love interest flipping out. It was kind of frustrating to watch as an ex’s stupidity was destroying something I’ve been trying for for so damn long now. In that frustration, I probably did the worst admittance of feelings ever. What do I mean? Well, cursing and holding yourself back from punching a wall while angrily saying “I like you, ok” is not exactly what most people plan. Hell, I didn’t want to say anything yet and especially not over the phone. Of course, now, we haven’t hung out at all and have barely talked. My ex is great and amazing and I’m lying. Seriously, what a bitch.

Tip to all you web site owners out there in the series of tubes we call the internet: If you want to increase the number of daily hits to your site, just have your supposed friend let her cell phone get in the hands of her friends and then fight with those idiots. In what has to be the most retarded situation I’ve ever been in, I’ve had these morons texting me trying to pick a fight. Yes, fighting over text message. Kids these days. You have the phone. At least use it to call me and set a place where I can kick your ass for being retarded. Oh well, I never mind the attention.