The countdown to Halloween has officially begun. It’s only day one, but curbing my hunger has already proven itself to be hell on earth. Given the fact that I scarfed down three croissants at work today, I didn’t do as well with my starvation as I’d hoped. Other than that, I suppose it was okay. Mondays are never good. After I fall off the wagon during the weekend, it always takes a day or two for me to get back on track. Not to mention, the additional time it takes for my body to digest the goddamn buffet that’s sitting inside my stomach.

Today was stupid. Big Bird was stupid. I didn’t do anything at work. I twiddled my thumbs for eight hours, and my entire day was just – stupid. Six more weeks. Six more weeks. Six more weeks. I’m putting in every minute I can to get those coins. Once I’m done at The Clubhouse, that’s it. I won’t have an income for a long time, so I need to fluff up that financial cushion while I still can.

I literally spent one of my eight hours actually doing work today. The rest of my shift was spent eating, on the internet, or having a “meeting” about social media with Lucy and Emma, during which we talked shit about Big Bird the entire time. Now, I get it. I finally understand what the girls were telling me during my first few weeks on the job. I would still pick working for Big Bird over Stella, but the leash Big Bird keeps me on is beginning to suffocate me. I am ready to rip it out of her wings and smack her across the beak with it. I know Big Bird’s going to be furious when I give my notice – along with the entire Clubhouse management team – but it is what it is. I need to get out of there.

For no reason whatsoever, I was absolutely exhausted today. After I got home from work, I immediately crawled into bed and slept for about an hour. I woke up from my nap with a raging erection, so I decided to entertain my libido and rubbed one out on the spot. After that, I chowed down on some dry cereal in bed – damn it – and then went to the gym. It’s crunch time. Literally. I put in some extra effort with my workout routine tonight while I listened to a recent interview Lady Gaga did with Howard Stern.

I think a lot about what I want to do with my life. When I listen to an interview like Lady Gaga’s, her artistic passion leaves me wishing even harder that I had that indescribable, undying love for something inside of me. I want that so bad. I want that passion, but I still haven’t found it.

During our meeting this afternoon, Lucy asked me what I wanted to do with my life. The question took me a bit by surprise. Only for a second, though. I told Lucy that I wanted to write. I think that’s what my passion is. It’s not just about the writing. It’s about putting a piece of work into the world that could potentially help someone else. Sharing my own experiences, both funny and heartbreaking, to perhaps bring comfort or happiness into another person’s life. I want to make people laugh. At the same time, I also want just one person to know that the struggles they face in their life are not unique to them. Well, they are unique. That’s not what I mean. Instead, it’s the idea that we are not alone with our struggles. Somewhere in the world, there is another human being who has gone through something similar or who is willing to help. I want to help. I want to make the world a better, happier place. I’m sure as hell not doing any of that in the Membership Department of The Clubhouse.

After wrapping things up in the gym, I had my sauna and then trekked home. The usual schlep.

Back at the Witch Cave, I took a moment to try on my Mariah Carey “Heartbreaker” stripper heels for the fiftieth time. I love them so much. The shoes are hot pink patent leather, and look like something a Pamela Anderson Barbie doll would wear. I can’t wait to strut around in them all weekend. Unfortunately, there won’t be any strutting until I can get my stomach in shape. Right now, my gut is a hot fucking mess.

I capped off my night with a fantastic shadoobie before eventually crawling into bed. Speaking of which, I got a nervous stomach today at work. That all-too-familiar pre-diarrhea feeling. It all started because I was looking at December flights to New York City, and got to thinking about the feelings that such a trip might dredge up. Especially after the events of August, I don’t know if I’m ready to go back to New York City. I want an adventure, though. Perhaps I have to continue facing my fears. At the very least, I’m in a better place than I was in August. Right? I think I can handle the Big Apple. We’ll see.

Goodnight xo