dead men tell no tales...

The A's game last night suuuuucked. Except that me and Heather were in a luxury box with Alana and Paul, and Matt and Renee and others... Alana's dad got the mad hookup. Chicken wings, little slider hamburgers, hot dogs, turkey wraps, chips, salad, fruit, cookies and brownies, and of course, beer... all to be had without a dime coming out of my pocket. Rock. So yeah, the suite was cool, the game was shitty. Heather and I booked it after the top of the 7th, when it was 10-2. Saw Huston Street pitch a decent inning (Heather thinks he has the coolest baseball name EVER), then hightailed it back to BART and back to W.C. Everyone came into work before 8:30 today... wigging me out... feels like I've been here two hours, and I haven't. Though, I did get in at 7:15, and will be booking at 3:45 I think. I have shit to do that I don't want to do. As per usual. It's shit that I'm putting off and I need to just hammer it out, for chrissakes. Get paid on Friday. Need to start figuring out my budget situation better. Not sure if I can survive like this until July when I move out. Sucks.