Amazing.
Currently 52 degs, later until wed, as low as 8. Fuck me. Better yet, last night It goes on a major rage: ran outta peroxide. Goes on a TEAR "why don't you tell me when we run out of...." I guess It can't open the medicine chest (which of course It does during interminable countless visits to apply makeup/carcinogens.). Better than THAT: we ran outta peroxide 2 weeks ago when I initially cut my finger. BETTER THAN THAT: It claims to be a model of sobriety: imagine allowing running out of anything, much less PEROXIDE, and letting THAT determine your mood. Go teach religion, maybe Jesus gives a shit.
And, the topper, I walk into the den, it reeks of a Mexican jail. Stoney left his bong there. Lovely.
Fuck me.
Monday, January 6, 2014
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