My dad came to my room this morning and asked me, "Do you want a chocolate donut?" On the weekends he goes to the donut shop and buys us all our favorite kind. I usually (only) get the chocolate donut with colorful sprinkles, but lately I feel sick after. I think I'm over chocolate donuts for now. I tell him this, and he looks a little bummed. He says, "Well...would you like a cinnamon roll then?" Excited, I said yes. I fucking love cinnamon rolls. Hours later when I'm finally ready to eat, I pull it out of the bag and it's this big, twirly glazed donut. I guess it has the appearance of a cinnamon roll, but it didn't look as cinnamon-y. I heat it up in the microwave, grab a fork, pour myself a glass of milk, and take it to my room to devour. After two bites I realize, it's not a cinnamon roll at all! It's just a big, twirly glazed donut...doesn't taste cinnamon-y in the slightest bit. I feel like calling that donut a cinnamon roll is very misleading, and I am pissed.
Anyway, I'm laying in bed watching Two Lovers. Joaquin Phoenix is such a babe. I have work at five, I'm selling the heart pins again, and tonight Robert is my partner. He loves doing the whole spiel in front of the audiences, so I just have to hold the box and look good. The last movie's at 10:35, I'm really hoping they just let me go home instead of making me help concessions close. I'm scheduled to sell hearts, not to clean shit, fffuuu...
I'm really loving all these hours I've been working though. I love keeping busy, it keeps my mind off everything else. Oddly enough, I am happiest when I'm at work. Depending on who I'm scheduled with of course, but still. Being paid to enjoy working eight hours is something I don't mind. More hours, please. I applied at a few other places, but who knows. I'll stay at the theater for now.
I don't want to get out of bed though. It's too cold outside, it's too cold inside. It's too cold everywhere. I just want to stay warm, damnit.
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