Sometimes you have to fire your friends.
I kicked Nick out yesterday.
It was hard but I had to do it.
I didn't even call him because I knew he wouldn't answer his phone like always, so I sent him a text message. It said something like "Please have all your shit gone by the time I get home from work and find somewhere else to stay." That was all I said.
I didn't even give him a reason. One, he should know the reasons why I'm upset and two, I don't need to give him a reason. It's my house.
For those who aren't aware, my house is NOT a hotel. If he would have been paying me rent or something, that would be different. But, no, he was just staying there. I let him. It was my call. If he had been paying rent, I wouldn't have cared that he hardly ever came home or called when he didn't plan on showing up, or that he would stumble in after midnight. But he wasn't paying. He was pretty much just storing a bunch of his shit at my place and sleeping there if he got tired. That's how it seemed, anyway. Not cool with me. At all.
Later, dude. You got somewhere else you've been sleeping? Stay there then. Don't make me wonder where the hell you are and if you're going to even show up tonight. Don't make me wonder if the girl you're probably bangin' is being followed by her crazy ex who decided to fuck with you guys and shank you or something. What the hell else am I supposed to think??? You don't answer your fuckin' phone.
I mean, if he called it would be one thing... but when he just doesn't show up, and then calls in sick to work the next day, I'm gonna be wondering about him. Nicki's gonna be wondering about him. Hella people at work are gonna be wondering about him, too. Dude! Don't tell me the girl that you're supposedly not sleeping with has a psycho ex that follows you around and will stop at nothing to get his woman back even though she'll never have him. He's probably followed you to MY house now and now Mr. Wacky knows where I live. How do I know he's not gonna fuck with me now?
I talked to his mom, Susie on the phone for a long time last night. I told her all the fucked up shit that he's been doing to me and Nicki. She's just as lost as we are. Something happened to Nick, and he's not the same as he used to be. What the hell happened to him???
Step into my office... 'cause you're fuckin' fired.
Anyway, when I got home, I watched Murder, She Wrote and didn't worry about whether or not he was going to walk in and start bitching about how bad it sucks and that we should watch some movie with guns or car chases or something overly macho. I worked on my body parts, too and didn't worry about how much noise I was making or how big the mess was, since no one would care but me. It was nice.
It was hard but I had to do it.
I didn't even call him because I knew he wouldn't answer his phone like always, so I sent him a text message. It said something like "Please have all your shit gone by the time I get home from work and find somewhere else to stay." That was all I said.
I didn't even give him a reason. One, he should know the reasons why I'm upset and two, I don't need to give him a reason. It's my house.
For those who aren't aware, my house is NOT a hotel. If he would have been paying me rent or something, that would be different. But, no, he was just staying there. I let him. It was my call. If he had been paying rent, I wouldn't have cared that he hardly ever came home or called when he didn't plan on showing up, or that he would stumble in after midnight. But he wasn't paying. He was pretty much just storing a bunch of his shit at my place and sleeping there if he got tired. That's how it seemed, anyway. Not cool with me. At all.
Later, dude. You got somewhere else you've been sleeping? Stay there then. Don't make me wonder where the hell you are and if you're going to even show up tonight. Don't make me wonder if the girl you're probably bangin' is being followed by her crazy ex who decided to fuck with you guys and shank you or something. What the hell else am I supposed to think??? You don't answer your fuckin' phone.
I mean, if he called it would be one thing... but when he just doesn't show up, and then calls in sick to work the next day, I'm gonna be wondering about him. Nicki's gonna be wondering about him. Hella people at work are gonna be wondering about him, too. Dude! Don't tell me the girl that you're supposedly not sleeping with has a psycho ex that follows you around and will stop at nothing to get his woman back even though she'll never have him. He's probably followed you to MY house now and now Mr. Wacky knows where I live. How do I know he's not gonna fuck with me now?
I talked to his mom, Susie on the phone for a long time last night. I told her all the fucked up shit that he's been doing to me and Nicki. She's just as lost as we are. Something happened to Nick, and he's not the same as he used to be. What the hell happened to him???
Step into my office... 'cause you're fuckin' fired.
Anyway, when I got home, I watched Murder, She Wrote and didn't worry about whether or not he was going to walk in and start bitching about how bad it sucks and that we should watch some movie with guns or car chases or something overly macho. I worked on my body parts, too and didn't worry about how much noise I was making or how big the mess was, since no one would care but me. It was nice.