me: hi
her:what's wrong
me: nothing
her: work
me: no
her: just tired
me: no
her: not work. not tired???
me: THERE IS MORE IN MY LIFE THAN WORK FOR GOD'S SAKE
her:oh, a boy. i'll beat him up.
me: NO.
her:i can beat him up.
me: i'm sure you can but it is not a boy and hello even if it was i'm too repressed to talk to you about it. (that last part was implied)
her:i will make him cry like a girl. a baby girl.
me:IT IS NOT A BOY.
she still thinks its a boy.
then i walk to busstop. and the bus passes me without stopping even though i do that weird stop for me wave. this is a photo of courtenay place, immediately after the bus not stopping for me incident. bloody buses. grumble grumble grumble. i should ring my sister and tell her it isn't boys it's farcken buses that get me mad.
i should go to bed. i have to get up at dawn tomorrow...
3 comments:
Man, those days are a pain in the ass. Sorry. Hope you have a chance to enjoy something that you really really like doing just for yourself.
thanks emertron. i DID get to sleep which is basically my favourite thing. but also i ate scrambled eggs for dinner and that is also one of my favourite things. i tried to watch desperate housewives, a former favourite thing, but it was boring.
I am obsessed with Grey's Anatomy. I want to wear green scrubs and live a youthfully earnest by angsty life that is neatly bundled into little packages and tied up with shattering insights every sixty minutes. And I want to be as sexy as all the sexy people in the programme. Even though hardly any of them are actually having sex.
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