every vibrator in my house is dead.

this is a lie: there is the nineteen-fifties hand-strap one that shoots sparks, and there is the nineteen-thirties one that was, once upon a time, the greatest invention on the face of this earth, until my electrocution. neither of us have been the same since.

and it is december, and i've bought a total of two winter gifts thus far. and i have thirty dollars to my name until friday. and i won't really get paid much, then. i work two days a week in a grocery store.

the gift situation i've been too overwhelmed to speak about. ( but this is simply a travesty. )