My eye is slowly getting better. If I wake up tomorrow and it's okay, then I get to wear my contacts tomorrow. Huzzah. It was weird having my glasses on at work, most of the time, I kept them off because I don't wear glases when I'm on the computer and hello, most of the time? I'm doing things on the computer.
I don't notice it when I'm wearing contacts, but I'm really not comfortable working on the computer wearing my glasses.
I have learned that I need to toss out about five tubes of mascara. WHY CAN'T I EVER THROW AWAY MY MASCARA? I will now.
When my eyes are okey-dokey (hey, it's one of Dean's favorite sayings), I shall crack open my two new mascaras (yes, I use two different kinds, hi, I'm weird) and celebrate with making my eyelashes rock Very Black. Sky-High Curves and Volume, bitches.
Then I'll put on my white eyeshadow and my god, I'm kind of slutty.
Speaking of slutty, I need to watch my mouth around my sister Cuppy (she's 12). I call my super high-heeled knee length boots my "hooker boots" and my sister today? Said to me, "Oh I wore my hooker boots to school today." Er.
I AM NOT A GOOD ROLE MODEL.
Watching House after eating too much seafood was an interesting experience. Gack.
My remix redux? Needs another day to bake. Yeah, that's the ticket.
Writing Sam Winchester getting pwned by a nighttime security dock guard in a poker game = SO MUCH WIN. But I am disturbed that all the older Cuban Original Male Characters that I'm creating for my fic have traits similar to my stepgrandfather. I don't even like my stepgrandfather, dude.