friends in low places
nothing like having your "friends" really tell you what they feel about you. i suppose i'll get to that soon enough.
the opies are tonight. the theme is like the oscars. stephanie and i went and bought me a totally hot dress and purse to wear tonight. we're gonna look hot. we hung out last night with josh getting all pretty and pretending that we were on the red carpet being interviewed by a very drunken joan rivers. lots of fun.
i suppose that is when the drama begins.
i get a text message at 3:30 saying that one of my friends showed his ass at burkarts and called me a cunt. i reply with what? why did he call me a cunt.
that's when we got to it.
apparently one of my "friends" was at a bar last night starting shit with benji and jason. and benji ended up grabbing his shirt and throwing him out of a bar. at some point he called me a cunt and decided that i was the reason for all of his problems.
he was driving home drunk.
he tried to call me but i didn't answer. so he got pissed off about that and said he was coming to MY house. stephanie told him not to. i said if he wanted to talk he could call me i'd answer but that he doesn't come to my house.
he called me. i answered.
he called me a cunt. a bitch. a whore. he said i do nothing but start trouble. he said i lie to everyone and that everybody hates me. he told me that he hated me and that i never stop talking that everybody just pretends to be interested. he said he hated hearing about six flags and everything else i ever talk about.
then he started on my theatre career. i'll give you the short version.
"the last night of ballyhoo" - the dress wasn't that bad. i could fit through doors. i'm just a drama queen.
"episodes in sexuality" - my plays were entertaining.
"stop kiss" - it was the the ugliest set he had ever seen. it was piece of shit. he hated it. shelly did all of my media. i should never do set design again.
"journeys and jaunts" - i should just listen to the director and shut my fucking mouth. just do what the director says and don't design anything.
"tartuffe" - nobody cares about my boobs. the play sucked and the costumes sucked. so what if my boobs are in a picture.
in general i've had better evenings. i didn't get mad. i didn't get angry. i didn't yell at him. i didn't say anything hateful to him. i didn't blow up. i acted like it didn't bother me.
but i've never been more hurt or crushed in my life.
the opies are tonight. the theme is like the oscars. stephanie and i went and bought me a totally hot dress and purse to wear tonight. we're gonna look hot. we hung out last night with josh getting all pretty and pretending that we were on the red carpet being interviewed by a very drunken joan rivers. lots of fun.
i suppose that is when the drama begins.
i get a text message at 3:30 saying that one of my friends showed his ass at burkarts and called me a cunt. i reply with what? why did he call me a cunt.
that's when we got to it.
apparently one of my "friends" was at a bar last night starting shit with benji and jason. and benji ended up grabbing his shirt and throwing him out of a bar. at some point he called me a cunt and decided that i was the reason for all of his problems.
he was driving home drunk.
he tried to call me but i didn't answer. so he got pissed off about that and said he was coming to MY house. stephanie told him not to. i said if he wanted to talk he could call me i'd answer but that he doesn't come to my house.
he called me. i answered.
he called me a cunt. a bitch. a whore. he said i do nothing but start trouble. he said i lie to everyone and that everybody hates me. he told me that he hated me and that i never stop talking that everybody just pretends to be interested. he said he hated hearing about six flags and everything else i ever talk about.
then he started on my theatre career. i'll give you the short version.
"the last night of ballyhoo" - the dress wasn't that bad. i could fit through doors. i'm just a drama queen.
"episodes in sexuality" - my plays were entertaining.
"stop kiss" - it was the the ugliest set he had ever seen. it was piece of shit. he hated it. shelly did all of my media. i should never do set design again.
"journeys and jaunts" - i should just listen to the director and shut my fucking mouth. just do what the director says and don't design anything.
"tartuffe" - nobody cares about my boobs. the play sucked and the costumes sucked. so what if my boobs are in a picture.
in general i've had better evenings. i didn't get mad. i didn't get angry. i didn't yell at him. i didn't say anything hateful to him. i didn't blow up. i acted like it didn't bother me.
but i've never been more hurt or crushed in my life.