Clarification

I feel like my last post sounded too much like a tiny pity party. And, as much as I love parties of any variety, I just barely ran out of tear-shaped confetti and double fudge brownie ice cream, so I guess I should just elaborate on the no job situation and nip this particular party in the bud.

I wish I could say that the reason they aren't hiring me back next year is because I did something CRAZY. That way, I would go out with a bang as opposed to a fizzle. (Well, we still have graduation on Friday. I guess I could do something crazy there.....) In all actuality, it's purely based on a lack of funds. In fact, the school head master was all misty-eyed when he told me they couldn't employ me. "My daughter just loves you and talks about you all the time."

Whoohoo!! As long as the kids love me, I'm good with that. And now I can have the excuse to go find a job that actually pays my bills. Anyone have some suggestions? I hear that bums with street signs do pretty well for themselves....

Back to Square One

Update on yesterday:

The day did not get better. Guess who doesn't have a job next year? *Jules jumps up and down, frantically waving her hand in the air and yelling, "Ooh! Me! Pick me!*

Ah well. Back to job hunting, my friends.

Julianna and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

It's May 24th.

It's snowing.

Now, I'm not talking about nice little snow flurries. I'm talking about tree branch-breaking, shovel-your-driveway-multiple-times-ing, blizzarding snow.

Once again, Julianna is disgruntled.

And it's only 10:30 am and I've already had an emotional breakdown.

I think I'll move to Australia.

On the bright side, I did make it to the gym. Go team.

Also, I loved Lost last night, and like any other true Lost fan, I'm going to post about it soon. Deal with it.

I hope your Monday is shaping up to be better than mine.

I'll let you know when I start my photography business.

I like to call this particular piece "Moving Out of the Basement Apartment".

I feel that it accurately captures the angst that comes with moving. You can almost hear the model in the photo (who is obviously a natural, by the way) saying, "Why don't I just light a match and start over...in the forest somewhere?"

It's a modern-day version of The Scream, really.

Seriously, though. This moving thing is annoying.

Let's find something a little more in my price range...like the 5 to 10 dollar price range.

Once upon a time I signed up for the "Shop It To Me" mailing list, and now I always get emails from them about the fantastic sales going on with various brands. It's a nice idea, but I have yet to buy anything, mainly because the showcased sales are usually on items like this.

Now, call me crazy, but it seems that anyone who is willing to spend 2,500 dollars on a deerskin jacket is not the type of person who is going to be signing up for EMAILED DISCOUNTS!

The other day there was a lace metallic shawl on sale for 800 dollars, discounted from 1,500 dollars. Oooh, golly! That's the perfect item for me! $1500 was just too big of a price tag, but $800 is perfectly reasonable.

Come on, Shop It To Me. If I'm looking for a clothing sale, chances are that I don't have $1000 to spend.

I blame the parents.

In the past week, I have very nearly killed the following animals with my car:

• Two suicidal cats who darted in front of my car at three in the morning.

• One wounded quail, limping ever-so-slowly across the road.

• A bunch of ducklings.

I felt the worst about the ducklings. What is it about ducklings? I could run over a different type of animal and not feel TOO bad, but running over a whole family of ducklings ranks right up there with punching puppies--nearly unforgivable!

I'm still haunted by the image of their little wings flapping in panic as they tried to escape my car. Luckily, they got away, but I very nearly became a murderer.

Seriously, ducklings, didn't your mother ever teach you to not play in the road?

Some of Julianna's Thoughts While Sitting in a Sauna

Eeew. There is an old man out there wearing a Speedo. Sir, it's time to trade in your tiny suit for something a little more modest. Please. Someone should really put an age limit on Speedos. Like, only Olympians between the ages of 16 and 30 can wear them. I'm pretty sure that would cut down on most dry-heaving that occurs at public swimming pools.

And don't get me started on bikinis.

Speaking of which, a bikini-clad woman just came in to the sauna with her significant other. How do I know that these two are romantically involved? Well, first off, I just have a gift for reading people. Secondly, they are cuddling and cooing. *Shudder* Is that romantic? To come into a sauna and sweat all over each other? I don't think so, but that's just me. Call me crazy, but I think that some moments are not meant to be shared with the love of your life.

But, what do I know? I'm one of those crazy young single adults.

Uh oh. The Speedo Man is coming into the sauna. No, Speedo Man! Don't come in! Oh great. Speedo Man is sitting directly across from me. OH NO! Speedo Man is doing some very inappropriate stretching moves. Stop, Speedo Man! STOP! STOP WITH THE STRADDLE STRETCH!!! ARGH!! My retinas!!

*Julianna rushes out of the sauna, nursing her wounded eyes.*