I had my nails painted last weekend. Did I mention that? My nails are mine. As in, I didn't pay anyone to attach them to my fingers. They're home-grown. And hardly anyone ever notices them. Until I get them painted. At which point everyone notices them. And promptly asks if they're real. Which is the main reason I don't paint them very often - everyone assumes they're acrylic / fake / whatever and it drives me bonkers. I work hard to keep them long and strong (heh, pervy nails!) and it's irritating when others assume they're fake.

But I'm going to have them repainted. Maybe today. The polish is looking rough and I'm ready for another color.
[/girly]

I need to reserve a copy of the final Harry Potter book. I want to give a big Nyah! to everyone who thinks Snape is evil.

It's hotter than fuckerballs outside and I'm having a hard time mustering the energy to do much. I was planning on going into work, but didn't. Although I did run to PPaws in Greenback and get some flea meds for the pups. That's about as motivated as I've been all day.

Unless you count holding the couch down for a short nap.

The title bar isn't working. Or at least it's not working on this computer. Bastard.

The Proactiv I ordered arrived. Yay!

The ebayer I bought it from never left me feedback, even though I paid for it less than 10 minutes after the auction closed. Fucker.

Yeah ... I think I'll take my polish in and have my nails done again (I suck at painting my own nails). I need to get lottery tickets anyway.