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Work, Party, Paint.

Tell you what, I'm going to let my fingers do the walking. Let's see where this one goes.

I'm at a point in my life where if I wake up past 10 am I feel guilty about it, like I've wasted my day.

Yesterday I slept in till noon.

My life has been divided into three: working, partying and painting.

I work Wednesday through Sunday, long hours for what I consider to be "summer break". When I'm not working, I loaft for the whole day. It's my time to just sit around, stop worrying about the world and chill out. Yep, I can pretty much guarantee when I'm not in my work uniform, I'm not wearing pants.

It's the only way to loaft, really. Pantaloons are kind of constricting, no?

Sometimes I hate my dad. He's arrogant and strict. Living with him is like living in a dictatorship. But when I'm a parent of three little boys, I think I'm going to raise my kids the same way he raised me and my older brother. Instead of spoon feeding us, he taught us how to feed ourselves.

Perhaps I'll leave out the profanity and incessant orders.

Essentially, he taught me how to hold my own hand. This is an asset that will serve me for the rest of my life.

He also taught me how to respect myself and how to demand respect from others. Dressing like a hooker won't attract a husband. Throwing a fit won't make people regard you as an adult. Remember that, ladies.

He taught me everything is good in moderation. And "almost" only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.
While this makes no real sense to me, it makes for a swift and easy reply, along with "Go big or go home," the motto and mentality that I also inherited from my father.

I think those two mottos/ "life lessons" explain pretty thoroughlt why I am the way I am.

I work hard, but I play hard too. I'm sending myself to the Dominican Republic this summer with my best friend and her family. I won't be bringing my work uniform.

It's two days after Father's Day.

He also taught me to be fashionably late.