there's bird poop on my skylight.

why do i always have to buy milk on the day before a major ice store warning? the grocery store was fucking nuts; all the whackjobs were out in droves, buying toilet paper and bread and beer. because we all know that in case of emergency, in the case of a life-or-death weather emergency, we are all going to need toilet paper and bread and beer. enhancing my shopping experience, the token retard sacked my groceries and smashed my bread. (i also happened to be out of bread, lucky fucking me.)

have i mentioned how much i hate grocery shopping? however, i do love groceries, so i guess it's a give and take. i'll give you some money; you take your lame ass to the supermarket and buy me some damn groceries.

i met my goal for the month, my boss was pretty impressed. she was quick to point out that i tend to work harder/achieve more when we're on double bonus days. i wanted to say, "der," but i held my tongue and agreed to work at a uniform level regardless of the availability of a bonus. and then proceeded to do absolutely nothing all afternoon.

can't tell me what to do; you're not the boss of me. oh wait...

the bee is gone for the weekend: it's deer season. our agreement on this is as follows: he doesn't tell me jack shit about it and i pretend that it doesn't exist. i didn't grow up in a hunting family and i have zero interest and a barely measureable level of tolerance for such activities, but if you're going to date an iowa boy, chances are he's going to own a gun and he's going to want to shoot it at live, sometimes cute, animals. and the bee is no exception. i was home when he got home this afternoon and he was about to burst, he was so excited to get out and shoot things.

whatever. i just don't want deer jerky or deer related items in the house, that's all i ask.

did i tell you one of our goldfish died today? karl, my drag queen goldfish, was stuck to the filter intake when i got home. that's never a good sign. neither was the fact that when i "unstuck" him, he just sunk. so now it's fluffy's tank. :(

i'm going to go watch csi: miami. i'm tired.

if you still feel raw about it, i'll be waiting

i just kicked out the king bee. not permanently, at least i don't think so. i told him i'm not his roommate, his whore or his maid, and i refuse to be treated as such. he said to call him when i feel like talking again. i told him to call me when he realised how shitty he was making me feel.

i guess i'm kind of testy this evening. but i'll bet you my phone doesn't ring. and i know mine won't be dialing out...

gahhh. fucking boys, anyway. i hate them all.

so my "roommates" are on vacation. and that leaves me housesitting and dogsitting. housesitting is awesome, because i can watch my movies on the big tv really loud like i like them. and i can either do the dishes as i dirty them or i can wait until i'm out of glasses and then wash them all. (i'm not waiting. i'm far too anal retentive for a sink full of dirty dishes; ick.)

however, dogsitting is NOT so awesome. the dog hates me. and she's fucking crazy. she wouldn't eat her dinner last night (dinner, by the way, is a specially crafted plate of ham and chicken and cheese - not dog food, as you might imagine.) so she started barking at 0300 this morning because she was hungry/bored/mad that i was sleeping. and she barked nonstop until nearly 1000. what made her stop barking? i went and bought her a freaking roasted chicken, as suggested by my roommate and she ate the whole thing and took a nap. later, as i tried to put her out, she gangbusted the door and went for an unauthorized stroll about the neighborhood. about 20 minutes later she just came home.

i hate this dog. plus, she keeps jumping on my bed which is just pissing me off. grrr....

so. work. let's talk about work, shall we? yup. i'm gainfully employed and i have one of those titles that sounds really important. i'm a business development coordinator. what does that mean? well, obviously, i develop and coordinate business, you big dummy. no, really, it means that the salespeople at the antichrist of car dealerships that i'm now employed by are really not happy to see me every morning. but that's okay, since they're all old and not cute anyway.

at least not at my location. which is probably good. that could be kind of distracting. the phone guy is adorable and he's distracting enough.

anyway. work is good. i like it, so far. my boss is kind of scatterbrained and in the right light (or maybe the wrong light?) she has one hell of a moustache, but she's a back scratcher and she likes me. i'm sort of the "teacher's pet" and i like it that way. my coworkers are decent; at least 66.6 percent of them are. the remaining 33.334 percent is an insecure double bagger asian chick whose previous experience includes getting fired from the dealership/amusement park across the street. most of the time, she's not bad, if you don't look her straight in the face. the rest of the time i just want to club her with a blunt object. but whatever. a job is a job is a job is a job...

i just have to get moved. and that may be happening soon. i may have found a way to get through my financial woes more quickly than i thought. more news on that as it develops.

i'm seriously feeling bad about that whole argument with the king bee and he's probly asleep. i fucking hate boys. all of them. gahh...

so i think my fish is sick. norman, who i think is actually a norma, is looking swollen and is bottom sitting. beginning signs of dropsy, which as i found with roger cannot be cured. but then i fed him and now he's looking fine. perhaps he was swollen as a sign of starvation? i don't know. i can't figure the fuckers out. you feed them; they die. you don't feed them, they still die. they should be more like cats.

but not dogs.

i bet he doesn't feel bad at all. i bet he doesn't even understand why i'm mad. all day long, he did nothing but slept or ate or used my roommates kitchen or bathroom or shower; he was pissy when he had to buy lunch; he would have rather have played psp than talked to me on our way to cville this afternoon - the time actually spent with me, not sleeping or showering or trying to put his hand in my pants or watching telly was basically nonexistent. and i was feeling a little bit used. so i told him so. and he made that pathetic little puppy dog, "i don't get it face" and i held my ground.

and now i feel like a bitch.

i'm going to go watch the yankees beat the red sox and text message someone who at least pretends to care about me.

moving catastrophe #1

0937: roger gets stuck to the water vac. gahhhh.....

it's going to be a long day.