Darling Clementine

I’ve been in an incredibly good mood all day. I know… I’ll wait while you get up off the fainting couch. No one, not even the jackasses at work, interfered with it. It’s been quite lovely. I’m not even letting something else get in the way. You’re not ruining my week, Auntie.

Let’s hope it extends through the weekend because I’m going to top this bitch off with some Guinness Extra Stout and the pooty-faces (and Mummy Dearests) of the world can suck on it. So, there!

Or, you could just not come because no one would miss you.

“I bet you wish George Bush was president now.”

Oh, little SPAM comment, you’re hilarious.

Anyway, everything has been getting on my nerves today. I don’t know if it’s close to that time (not really), or if I’m just being extra touchy, or if YOU ASSHOLES SHOULD STOP BEING SEXIST DOUCHEBAGS, or what… it’s crazy. The world is a mystery.

I almost popped off this morning, but I refrained. I didn’t need the rest of the day being all awkward, ha ha! Whatever, I’m much better now that I’m home. I LOVE YOU HOME. *huggles*

I pray the rest of the week goes smoothly, ’cause I’M NOT IN THE MOOD.

I’mma need Sunday to hurry up so I can watch Cesc, Rob, Steve & Nando in a four-way. I mean, the Arsenal-Liverpool match. But, you know, if they want to bust that out in the middle of the match, I would not object… at all.

Anyway, I’m hopped up on so much caffeine right now. Good thing I don’t have to show up to work tomorrow, because I’m going to be bouncing off the walls for a couple more hours. ha ha! Anyway, I’m bored, have a thing I took earlier:

(more…)

“I have no reason to talk about you.”

YET, when busted out on the fact that YOU WERE INDEED talking shit about that person… you “don’t talk shit about [person], except maybe when I need to call her a bitch under my breath.”

You were just talking mad shit. Oh wait, sorry, you don’t talk shit. OWN UP TO IT. Shit. This isn’t the first time you’ve been busted out by the person you were sharing said shit with; to then be confronted by said shittee. Seriously.

I’d be all like, “Fuck yeah, I was talking about you. Wanna know why? Because you beat babies with kittens.” Or whatever dumb fucking excuse you need to come up with. Personally I enjoy the truth, but whatever. “Yeah, I was talking shit about you, you dumb fucking twat.”