Page 3: Jan/10/2014
Good Store Ideas:
==>Let's get a STAR-WHO-GIVES-A-FUCKS! Every bookstore with any merit has a STAR-WHO-GIVES-A-FUCKS inside of it. If I have one more fucking fake-framed, beanie-wearing, ear-gauged, clove-smoking, poster child for participation award winning after effects ask me why we don't have a Starbucks in our store, I'm going to have to plead outright insanity when the state finally pins the murder back onto me.
==>Have an app that lets customers know how many fucks I give at a rate of fucks per hour, or FPH, on the fact that we don't have a Starbucks.
==>Start a Kickstarter campaign to fund my future bail.
==>Apparently, as I was informed today, I need to look into something called "Cruelty-Free Coffee". -Apparently- Ol' Folger's is up to no good because they don't cost $35 a bag, with a prominent sticker saying that 'No slaves were harmed in the production of this slave product'.
==>Burn the store down, collect insurance, go to Venice.
On a completely unrelated note: Atticus came in today to ask if I am still going to his band's concert? Um... no? Men are stupid. Leaving your Motorcycle parked in the same place every night is stupid.
-Yvonne "Your Band Sucks" Schmitt
Page 2: Jan/08/2014
So, the tragedy of my 'relation-shit' with Atticus has hit its 2 week anniversary.
I'm not -mad- that we broke up. God no.
The worst tragedy of all of this was at one point I had the sense to date aman guy named Atticus Webster Reynolds.
The second worst was that I continued to date him for eight months.
The third worst was then finding him butt-naked with another woman in his apartment, on Christmas morning. (Pro-Tip?: Remember who you give your apartment key to =OR= Try to only sleep with one person total while in a relationship; hopefully, the person you're in the relationship with).
My good friends Jack and Daniels have stopped by again. They never judge me. A few doubles and the mind-numbing, soul-crushing work of this month's inventory in the bookstore goes by without a hitch. (Why are we not incredibly digital yet? Barnes and Noble has a clicker/ray-gun/name your price/star trek phaser gun to barcode scan everything. We have Excel. Excel that has reached the peak of portability on my aging laptop).
[[Oh. Good Store Idea: Set up our own WiFi, and stop stealing the Laundromat's next door. I think they are on to me. Maybe because I ask for the password without having any laundry there? I don't know. Also, it's killing me slowly that the password is always something like "Sudsy" or "Bubbles" or "SnuggleSoft". Makes me feel like I'm logging into the wrong side of the Internet, you know?]]
I suppose the one perk of owning your own business is that you can be as buzzed as you want to work there. They don't even mention that in any of our starting your own business books. (Probably something to do with a future liability suit of an author when some lush comes back with half a hand saying that the author said he could drink as much as he wanted and own his own sawmill, or something. People are stupid. It could happen. This is America).
- Yvonne "ARE YOU DRINKING AT WORK AGAIN?!" Schmitt
I'm not -mad- that we broke up. God no.
The worst tragedy of all of this was at one point I had the sense to date a
The second worst was that I continued to date him for eight months.
The third worst was then finding him butt-naked with another woman in his apartment, on Christmas morning. (Pro-Tip?: Remember who you give your apartment key to =OR= Try to only sleep with one person total while in a relationship; hopefully, the person you're in the relationship with).
My good friends Jack and Daniels have stopped by again. They never judge me. A few doubles and the mind-numbing, soul-crushing work of this month's inventory in the bookstore goes by without a hitch. (Why are we not incredibly digital yet? Barnes and Noble has a clicker/ray-gun/name your price/star trek phaser gun to barcode scan everything. We have Excel. Excel that has reached the peak of portability on my aging laptop).
[[Oh. Good Store Idea: Set up our own WiFi, and stop stealing the Laundromat's next door. I think they are on to me. Maybe because I ask for the password without having any laundry there? I don't know. Also, it's killing me slowly that the password is always something like "Sudsy" or "Bubbles" or "SnuggleSoft". Makes me feel like I'm logging into the wrong side of the Internet, you know?]]
I suppose the one perk of owning your own business is that you can be as buzzed as you want to work there. They don't even mention that in any of our starting your own business books. (Probably something to do with a future liability suit of an author when some lush comes back with half a hand saying that the author said he could drink as much as he wanted and own his own sawmill, or something. People are stupid. It could happen. This is America).
- Yvonne "ARE YOU DRINKING AT WORK AGAIN?!" Schmitt
Page 1 : Jan/01/2014
To anyone who dares to try and read this:
Hello backstabber.
I see you've found what you think is a collection of some of my innermost thoughts.
Well the joke is on you.
This collection of paper and scribbles is nothing more than just an attempt to make some sort of alibi for
This book holds nothing like my hopes about white picket fences and Prince Charming's, or steamy dreams of toned abs on midnight beaches. I will not be charting my period or when Billy Fakename looks my way in homeroom.
This book is very low of the scale for the afterlife of a dead tree.
Like, right about grocery list... but just below free local newspaper.
So stop reading now.
Seriously.
-Yvonne Schmitt
P.S. Happy Fucking New Year
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