Oh, nothing, Tommy. It's tip-top. I'm just not sure about the color.
Dear (your name here),
I hate your stinking guts.You make me vomit. You're scum between my toes.
Love,
Ashley.
And I'm waiting on an angel
And I know it won't be long
To find myself a resting place
In my angel's arms
So, yesterday, let's recap:
I was happy
Fishing was a possibility
Plans changed
Some little cunt hair is on my shitlist
Betrayl is back with a vengance
No fishing
I really, really dislike you (it's starting to border on hate)
As much as I hate feeling like I'm giving up, as much as condenscending puts a bile-like taste in my mouth, score one up for Ratface and her Puke-a-licious posse of ignaramouses. I'm handing over one of the best friends I've ever had, because it just isn't worth fighting over it anymore. Said best friend isn't acting that way, anyway. So, you know, whatever. Just know that when you're suffering, I'm going to be just fine, you little assbabies.
Despite the above, my Saturday wasn't a complete loss. Got to watch Snatch. I love that movie so much, and I'd like to see the prequel. Brendon is just too awesome, and I'm glad I count him as a friend. Corpse Bride is going to be fantastic. I'm so excited about it, there just aren't words. When my favorite director of all time and my favorite actor of all time team up, the result is always too good for words. Big huzzah for Brendon and pre-buying tickets!!!
Sunday morning usually brings some kind of realization for me, I have no idea why, but it does. This time it was on a more spiritual level. I love how on a beautiful, quiet Sunday morning things can look so new, fresh, and all right. These little moments of clarity are sweeter than honey drizzling down your throat and far less sticky. Thank you, Sunday morning, for showing me the light. Hottie in Spanish class is now someone I am going to figure out some way to talk to. If "hottie" has a significant other, then perhaps I can fill in that space where a good friend once stood. Afterall, there are millions of other people out there I've yet to meet. Not everyone can love blow-up dolls with no breasts and rat-faces.