.265 x wants to die

Depressed. Sex stuff. Stupid Danny.

We have secret santa at work today. I have to get something for one of the girls. I may just get an American Express gift card. Impersonal, but she'd appreciate it because she could use it for anything. Blah. And I'm going to the gym with John. And I just want to curl up into a ball and die.

But somehow I made an A in Writers' House.

.267 x yay endorphins

So I was in a funk up until I went to the gym today, but that really helped. Both the endorphins and John's company. I feel much better now, though a bit tired. And Danny called and said he found a good gift for Dennis and Heather, the kinky ones... we'll be getting them a paddle with a shape cut out so that when they spank each other it leaves a cool print. Not that we'll see said print. Hopefully.

So I rowed for twenty minutes, used this weird new machine that's akin to the elliptical trainer for 15 minutes, and we did some strength training stuff in the weight room (my first time using the weights there). Plus, of course, stretching and sit ups.

Jewels was my secret santa. She got me a Victoria's Secret giftcard. Very nice. She's probably been at Laurel longest of all the girls, she's like the head trainer. I hope her secret santa got her something nice. Mel, the girl I was secret santa for, wasn't there. So I gave her card to Margaret to get it to her when she's there next.

I also chose the girl I like the best in a friendly sort of way who was working night shift and bought a shirt from her, tipped her six bucks, so that I could do something nice and Christmas-spirit-y for a girl I'd actually chosen. Plus I've wanted the Hooters thermal. So she gets the merch sale and the tip, I get another long-sleeved shirt (I don't have very many).