Things that are good, things that suck
Sep. 2nd, 2006 12:31 pmGood:
Creamy milk chocolate for breakfast.
Waking up to a cat licking my hands, rubbing my face, and generally cuddling.
Knowing that my husband will be home tonight.
Suck:
Going to edit past journal entries, and hitting the delete and enter buttons because I wasn't paying attention.
People who accuse me of never answering their MySpace messages, then not understanding my lack of desire to sign onto MySpace more than once a month. Sorry, I don't live on MySpace. You must forgive me.
Assholes who call me at two in the morning, demanding answers to why I didn't call them, and then when I ask them not to call me so late, telling me to fuck off.
Steve went into the hospital a few days ago with a throat abcess. I've talked to him on the phone; he is okay and he is recovering slowly. A while back, Steve introduced me over the phone to an acquaintance of his, whom I shall call Asshole. Asshole and Charlotte do not get along, mostly because Asshole doesn't like Charlotte being a Druid (she's not a "real Druid" because she's pagan and a witch, blah blah blah) and because her opinions and ideas are not his opinions. Steve just barely calls him a good friend anymore. He is also a severe alcoholic and not getting help, getting piss drunk every single day and not bothering to go out and make friends and be nice to people. He assumes that he knows more than the rest of his, that he is better than the rest of us with all his bookish Druid knowledge. He has a bad attitude. Luckily, he lives in New York, and Charlotte and I only have to put up with his drunk phone calling every so often, in which he loves to tell us how much better he is than us. He calls Steve so often I am surprised Steve willingly allows it. Asshole is like an annoying puppy, I swear.
Last night, around two in the morning, the phone rang, jolting me out of a sound sleep. When I answered the phone, Asshole said, "Hi, I just called Steve and he said he's in the hospital. Why didn't you call me? Why didn't anyone call me?" Now there were several answers I could have given. Because you're not my friend, because I don't have your phone number, because you constantly call Steve's cell phone anyway and would have found out on your own, like you just did. He talked at me a bit more, bitching that nobody informed him. Then I politely asked him not to call me at two in the morning anymore. He paused and snapped, "Oh, you know what, fuck off!" and hung up. I went back to sleep.
After Adam has been home, I plan on visiting Steve to see how he's doing.
Creamy milk chocolate for breakfast.
Waking up to a cat licking my hands, rubbing my face, and generally cuddling.
Knowing that my husband will be home tonight.
Suck:
Going to edit past journal entries, and hitting the delete and enter buttons because I wasn't paying attention.
People who accuse me of never answering their MySpace messages, then not understanding my lack of desire to sign onto MySpace more than once a month. Sorry, I don't live on MySpace. You must forgive me.
Assholes who call me at two in the morning, demanding answers to why I didn't call them, and then when I ask them not to call me so late, telling me to fuck off.
Steve went into the hospital a few days ago with a throat abcess. I've talked to him on the phone; he is okay and he is recovering slowly. A while back, Steve introduced me over the phone to an acquaintance of his, whom I shall call Asshole. Asshole and Charlotte do not get along, mostly because Asshole doesn't like Charlotte being a Druid (she's not a "real Druid" because she's pagan and a witch, blah blah blah) and because her opinions and ideas are not his opinions. Steve just barely calls him a good friend anymore. He is also a severe alcoholic and not getting help, getting piss drunk every single day and not bothering to go out and make friends and be nice to people. He assumes that he knows more than the rest of his, that he is better than the rest of us with all his bookish Druid knowledge. He has a bad attitude. Luckily, he lives in New York, and Charlotte and I only have to put up with his drunk phone calling every so often, in which he loves to tell us how much better he is than us. He calls Steve so often I am surprised Steve willingly allows it. Asshole is like an annoying puppy, I swear.
Last night, around two in the morning, the phone rang, jolting me out of a sound sleep. When I answered the phone, Asshole said, "Hi, I just called Steve and he said he's in the hospital. Why didn't you call me? Why didn't anyone call me?" Now there were several answers I could have given. Because you're not my friend, because I don't have your phone number, because you constantly call Steve's cell phone anyway and would have found out on your own, like you just did. He talked at me a bit more, bitching that nobody informed him. Then I politely asked him not to call me at two in the morning anymore. He paused and snapped, "Oh, you know what, fuck off!" and hung up. I went back to sleep.
After Adam has been home, I plan on visiting Steve to see how he's doing.