i am a train wreck. if you encounter me, stay away. i pity the fool that gets in my path. i will roundhouse kick you in the vagina.
if i had a real roc friend and not just a fake roc friend, i'd be on my way to dfw right now for two days of bringe drinking, sun absorbing, martini glass breaking fun. but no. my roc friend fucking sucks and i'm over her and done with her and we are no more. how fucking rude is that? she needs time? she wants special time with her captain? you know what i fucking need? i'd tell you, but you obviously don't give a shit. so you, susan, can stick your selfish little self-absorbed email right up your whore ass because i'm done with you. no more. cut off. no more landshark for you, bitch. you'll be sorry. (unless you'd like to make it up to me by inviting me up for a binge drinking weekend out on the boat and then we can talk about my forgiving you. no guarantees.)
so how do i keep finding myself in these situations? where do they come from? i'll be as vague as possible, becuase i know what i'm talking about and the fact that you don't doesn't really bother me that much. does my forehead say, tell me all your shit? is there something really therapuetic looking about me? i don't think so, but i keep finding all this weird shit dumped on me. why do i care, is my first thought, but i adore this coworker, and would like to be of assistance (imagine cajun man saying that, that's how i like to say it these days "ahh-sis-stahnce"). i don't know what to tell her. people have interesting problems but when i get involved i tend to get too involved and then take them to heart. i don't need any more problems, i seem to create enough on my own.
i'm in the final countdown (duh-nuh-nuh-nuhhhh) as far as ogg is concerned. i need to find a cute pair of sandals and get a pedicure and a fake tan. i'm pretty clear and i have a rainbow colored bruise on my shin. it's pretty. pretty fucking ugly. :D