she's a predator posing as a housepet
my weekend started pretty fucked...it's a long ass story.
got to leave work at one on friday. texted him on the way home. thought he would've called soon. nope. watched a buncha t.v., put the bike together, and unpacked some boxes i had shoved away. yeah, that means i was trying to keep my mind preoccupied...trying not to get mad. he never called, never answered his phone. self-destruct mode sets in. couldn't understand for the life of me why he'd do this shit...AGAIN. called up maureen, demanded a drink fest. and a drink fest is what i got. but it didn't turn out so well...like the rest of my shitty night. went to the store and got a fat bottle of reunite wine. got to mo's and cracked it open, downed it in like an hour. drank a little shot bottle of bacardi. got that tingly feeling going. then before i knew it, since we were out of wine, i started shooting jager. ugh. i guess i was getting stupid...started fucking around with maureen, put her in a head lock, then you know how drunk people start to take shit seriously REAL quick...she actually started trying to fight me for real. not cool. i guess she punched me (i don't remember)...i went ballistic when i got pulled off of her, tried to leave but they wouldn't let me. called me a cab. i was cussing everyone out. big time. ridiculous. the cab dirver was a fuck and a half. when we got to my apartment, i asked if he took cards. of course he didn't. i asked if i could write a check and he went into this story about he preferred that i didn't because it was a pain in HIS ass to stand in line at the bank. i said TAKE ME TO A FUCKING ATM THEN. got to the atm, threw the money at him through the window...told him to get the fuck lost. started walking to maureen's to get my car drunk as fuck still. people were driving by honking and yelling shit. i was flipping them off. i'm lucky i didn't end up dead in a fucking ditch, but then i would've been happy to see the end.
so you think i would've made it to my car and got home, end of story. HA, no. as i was walking, i saw lights flashing from behind me...the cop car pulled up next to me. oh fuck is right. they were really surprisingly nice to me though. they made me blow "just to see where i was at". fucking .12 or .15, something like that. i'm lucky i never made it to my car. they called me a ride home. by the time i stumbled to my front door, and dug through my purse...sprawled all contents on the steps, i realized my keys were non-existant. so fucking walked to the payphone on the other side of the apartment office. called maureen collect to talk to jones. ha, collect. i asked if my keys were there, they looked all over. gone. i guess they were in the cab...probably still are.
so jones came and picked me up so i could look for my keys. never found 'em, couldn't just go lay on my couch and sleep the whole thing off. no, no. jones bought me a friggin' hotel room, told me to call him in the morning and he'd give me a ride home. nice ass thing to do. went to bed after crying my drunken eyeballs out like a fool. woke up the next morning not knowing where i was. i hate the way that makes you feel. the night's events came rushing back. cryed to my mom about them. it sucks when you have no one to go complain to about how shitty things went over coffee the next morning. never heard from mark that whole fucking time. in the midst of my drunkeness i called him and left him a message telling him i hated him with every bone in my body and that i was through with him and i never wanted him to call me or contact me ever again. but of course i called him in the morning. he answered "hey baby". rage becomes me. "'hey baby'? is that what you have to fucking say to me?" my questions were answered. told him i really had to think about things and he better fucking do the same. i'm tired of being hurt that way. not calling me and keeping me abreast of your plans for the evening. be fucking considerate. you're not alone any more, not as long as you're with me. i guess it's weird that it actually scared him, that he was trying to keep me with him. anyways, talked all that shit out.
called yellow cab. "oh, you have to call back at night when the night drivers are here." oh, fuck you. jones took me to my car, i took myself home, finally. went to the front office to see if they could lend me their key to my apartment. my spare was in my room, on my dresser. oh, of course they're off for the next 3 days. of all weekends, this shit has to happen on a holiday weekend. great, so the only way for me to get in is, how? oh, use a fucking locksmith. shit, those bitches make some bank. "look at me! i'm a locksmith! i make you pay $65 for ten seconds of work!" haaa....ha...oh wait, i'm not really laughing.
FINALLY, i get into my fucking apartment. listen to messages from maureen and mark. think about calling them, decide "fuck it", i'm taking a shower first. then i talk to them, spend the day on my couch fixing problems.
the rest of the weekend was ok. chilled with mo again, tried to refrain her from yelling "MANGINA" on the streets in front of young chillin's. did laundry, got a tool box, watched an ass load of t.v. i love "who's wedding is it anyway?". and "alison's baby". if you think people without arms can't raise a baby, watch that documentary. fucking inspiring. and then i watched operation homecoming before bed last night. it's a tear-jerker. good shit. goddamn crazy.
if you read this whole thing, you have to leave me some kind of comment so i can tell you "thanks for caring, you bored-ass bodaggit."
<3's and farts.