Last night I was so proud of myself for going to bed before 11. What? I can be not tired during the day? Unfortunately, I am tired today.

I was having a great dream where Ted Danson (during the Cheers days) was my 2nd grade teacher. He was yelling at me for using the wrong pen. And just as I was about to deliver a seven year old smackdown to that asshole my cat woke me up by making an awful reverse hiccupping sound. I threw him off the bed before he could ruin the sheets (My sheets will only be ruined one way. ONE WAY, you hear me cat?!) I got up to clean whatever was waiting for me in the living room. Before I even turned the light on I knew something much worse was in the dark. I turned on the light and almost Hulked out I was so fucking pissed to see a blobby pile of cat diarrhea by the front door. What the fuck cats?! There are very few hours in the day they don’t have access to the outside. Only recently have they started dumping inside so I KNOW they can hold it.

So, at some point in the middle of the night I woke up to clean vomit and poo.

Just as I was asleep TBU yelled, You’re breaking into my house! I couldn’t go back to sleep. I laid (lay?) there wondering what the set up for that was. Maybe he was involved in an organized crime ring and they were burglarizing houses. Once they took the HD tv set he realized all the stuff was his and yelled, You’re breaking into my house! But by then it was too late. His XBOX, tv and sound system were already in the van, plus his bike. Bummer, dude.
Finally, I fell asleep.

That title really has nothing to do with this post. Unless you think it does, then well that’s your journey. I heard it today and I was like yes!

Anyhow, let’s get to the point. I don’t know what I’m doing here. Here, on this dorky cyber space confessional/slam book. I don’t know what it’s all about. I started this in July when I had no job and was home all day feeling sorry for myself. Don’t get me wrong I quit my job on my own accord (bitch called me an idiot!) I just felt like I wasn’t doing anything worthwhile. And for some reason (well, many reasons) I just couldn’t find another job. TBU (bless his heart) started supporting me when my savings ran out. I felt like a failure and even though I had a small side business going I didn’t really have the passion for it. So that’s where this thing came in. It was something I looked forward to, it was a bright spot in my otherwise depressing day. But now I have a job and I’m not in the same place. That doesn’t mean I love themillionizer.com any less, believe me. I have met some wonderful people through this and I get to make my friends laugh, that is awesome. I just don’t have the same inspiration for it anymore and it’s confusing to me. It has to adapt to the fact that I have a job now and I don’t have the energy to record all the minutiae in a (semi) coherent manner. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that it’s becoming harder to tell what is and isn’t relative. You know?

I really have a lot to talk about, even some things I think you might like to hear (or read). I have a notebook full of things I want to remember to write about but then I get home from work and it’s just so much energy to think about anything (Organizing my thoughts? Bleh). Then I feel like a failure (gee, what doesn’t make you feel like a failure?) for not being able to bring mself to do something that I really enjoy, and it’s not even that hard. It doesn’t help that TBU has become annoyed with the tapping of the laptop so I can’t really write when and where I feel the most millionizing energy. Once I get going though, it’s relaxing and I feel like I did when I first started.

What’s my point? My point is that I started this for me and I keep it around for me but way in the back of my mind I know others read it. And, because I have a terrible fear of rejection and social anxiety issues, I really want people to find something they like when they are here. But I always ask myself, what is there to like? I am not insanely funny and articulate like Mimi Smartypants. I don’t talk about some sort of exciting technology like millions of other bloggers. I am not a cult hero like Dooce (have I mentioned that I am totally over Dooce? Christ, could you be more repetitive and say the same things all the time?) So what do I have for you? I would like to be all cool hipster and say that it doesn’t matter what people think of themillionizer.com. I feel that way for the most part, but I check my statistics every day and I know how many people come here. When the numbers are low I wonder why.

Before I deal with everyone else in relation to this little cyber place I have to figure out what it means to me. And right now I can’t even remember what categories different types of posts are supposed to go under. I had it all worked out in my head, then I sobered up and forgot it all. Can’t something go under A day in the life and I was just thinking? Well yes but then why have categories anyway? And why do I even have a category called Hmmmm? I’m sure there was a reason at first but now I just don’t know.

At some point, all the archives I’ve devoured of various blogs have reached a point where the blogger reaches some sort of blog identity crisis. And every time I came up to that post I would think, what’s the problem here? Don’t they know they’re great? Well now I understand, because even though I might not be great I feel a certain pointlessness even though it makes me so happy.

So all in all, I am just a dork with a nervous mental tick.

I have three more things a I hate about conservative lesbian lady. Soon, young grasshopper, soon.

1. I have intense rejection issues. Now that that’s out of the way.

2. I confess it is currently Saturday. But I decided I wanted to write this yesterday because there are things I did this past week someone should know about. I could’ve titled this Saturday Confessional but it doesn’t sound quite right. Also Friday Confessional seems to be in keeping with actual confessional schedules. Who wants to start the weekend with a sin heavy soul?

3. To my co-workers. That smell? That smell was the fact that I had egg salad thrice this week. Oops.

4. I wore the same pair of jeans all week. They have not been washed since last week.

5. Four days this week I selected my shirt for the next day. Then I slept in said shirt to cut down on the time my chest would have to be exposed to the cruel morning air. Also out of sheer laziness. (So let’s get this straight, you went to work in the clothes you slept in? And didn’t change your pants? Exactly)

6. I lied on my timesheet. I figure I don’t get health insurance so they owe me the extra 15 minutes.