Yes, I know I was slacking off anyway.
BTW, I am writing this on August 16, 1998, and I am about to leave for a week's vacation tomorrow. I should have warned you guys, but there ya go....Things got ugly.
To recap:
Thursday Boring, until the evening. Dirk and I had an extremely minor fight about what movie to watch, with Dirk eventually capitulating and us watching "An American Werewolf In Paris". Good movie, if you don't mind the silliness and the fact that the "werewolves" look a bit more like ape-men in their animal form.
Anyway, movie was over, Dirk was screwing with Roachboy's mind via the Internet again. I started feeling really bad (as a side note, I am definitely not pregnant). Then, it was time for Dirk to leave, and I, half-muddled with exhaustion, painkillers, and cramps, kept hanging about outside while he was getting his bike ready to go. Dirk thought I was mad at him, and being stubborn, when, in reality, I was ready to collapse. So, I sat down, Dirk left, and I woke up by myself. I freaked, started crying, got online to find Roachboy still in a talkative mood.
There's not much left on the planet that can piss me off....I'd have to say when Roachboy starts getting the fucked-up idea that I'm still in love with him is the only thing left on the planet. Honestly, that boy has some ego. We won't go into how insistent he was about how fantastic his sex life is. It sounded vaguely as though he was trying to convince himself, but you didn't hear that from me.
Anyway, I made the mistake of calling him, which ended with him getting bitter, yet again, about the fact that I cheated on him. As if he hadn't cheated on the girl he was dating before me. Eh...it doesn't matter, and this is starting to sound hostile again. Anyway, for the record, I am not in the least interested in talking to him or getting e-mail from him for a while. He depresses me, mainly because he has this fervent need to prove how much better his life is than mine.
BTW, he couldn't refute everything I said about him and his new girlfriend a few entries ago.
FridayOkay, That Cunt showed her true colors again. I finally got my car back from the shop, and at dinner, she went fucking ballistic and told me that Dirk couldn't ride in the car again.
Anyway, That Cunt is screaming again, so I have to cut this short. I hope she dies. I really hope she dies. I hope she dies. I hope she dies. I hope she dies. I hope she dies. I hope she dies.
I'll see everyone in a week, if I haven't killed That Cunt and gotten my ass thrown in jail. goodnight.
12:12 a.m. Well, That Cunt has gone to bed, and it's safe to type some more. I'm going to skip the boring events, such as my mother going ballistic on friday, forbidding me to take the new car (after I'd just paid to get the fucking thing out of the shop, too!), and me ignoring her and driving off in it anyway. I also won't detail my father coming after me because she'd threatened to leave him and me telling him I wished he'd get a spine so that she couldn't use him to hurt me. Anyway, the end result was that I drove the old car that night and geared up to move out the next day if she didn't start kissing some serious ass.
And on saturday, Dirk paid for the rehearsal space, we went to ChiChi's and Tower. My mother kissed my ass. Sunday, well, that was spent avoiding all work. And saying goodbye to Dirk. I'll miss him so much.
Something interesting: Krisco works at the same McDonald's as my cousin, Shelly. I stopped by there tonight to give Shelly some last-minute instructions (since she's taking care of the cats while I'm gone). You should have seen Krisco stare. Open-mouthed, trying not to be obvious at the same time. I must say, it was the most amused I've been in a while.
I waved at one point, and Krisco visibly flinched. I hadn't been waving at her, though. I'd been waving at Shelly, trying to get her attention. After I was done talking to Shelly, I went back to my car, which was parked directly in the line of site of the drive-through window, and sat on the rear hood, smoking a cigarette (my last for the week, unfortunately). Krisco stared at us through the drive-through window forever, before hiding. I wonder if she was afraid we'd be waiting to beat her up after work.
Man, but she looked like shit.
Enough boring stuff. I want to proclaim my love for Cut While Shaving. I think it's the most hilarious parody-journal ever written. Some people actually think this is serious. It's a joke a sick parody. It's funny. It makes me laugh, it makes my cats laugh. If I could, I'd fucking marry this guy. If it weren't for the fact that Dirk would protest, using hedge clippers, of course.
Anyway, there's actually some loser out there who's created a Don't Link To Cut While Shaving page. Complete with a sorry-assed little blacklist. Hey, loser!!! Put me on your blacklist, right next to your pathetic little nazi logo. I like Cut While Shaving and I'm going to link to it as many times as I damn well please. You are trying to be the next McCarthy, and it's for something as stupid as a parody of an online journal. You are pathetic, you have no life, when you die everyone will laugh at you behind your back and whisper that you probably ate your own snot anyway.
Maybe that'll get me on their blacklist. Suckers!!! Click on the blacklist picture above, and you can get to Cut While Shaving I'll probably get bombed to kingdom come, but it's a worthy cause. Protect freedom of speech! Revile the blacklister. Dance upon the heads of the willfully ignorant.
We cannot allow ourselves to be censored and put on a pathetic little blacklist by the appointed "reviewers of decency"! Die fuckers, die!!!!
Okay, now that I've gotten that bit of loveliness off my chest, I'm going now. See you (and whatever uproar I may have caused) in a week, with a full accounting of my week in Hell.