I'm going to be disgusting and somewhat racist, just so you know. I'm very very angry. There's no excuse for my words, but I'm just so angry that I can't help it. Sorry. If you think I might offend you then don't even bother reading. I can't fucking take people anymore. Sorry.
First, a video.
Now, for the shit.
Well, obviously the cop took my driver's license. However, according to my attorney, I can go to the BMV and get a duplicate copy or a temporary state ID. So that is what I tried to do Saturday afternoon and this morning. Both times I was turned down. They couldn't give me a reason. Saturday I had to deal with these goddamn spics, I thought I was going to go off on them in Spanish, since they could barely speak English as it were. Why the fuck does the government hire assholes like that to work in their places?! When is the last time you had a real American wait on you? Fuck. This morning I went in all early, fucking 08:15, and these goddamn Negroes fucking park in two spots so my mom has to drop me off. I walk in, the woman just stands there, so I walk around her since she isn't moving and I take a number. My number is called right away, and I go up, and this bitch is like "Well I was here first but she walked in front of me and took a number" to which the fucking emo employee replies that she needs to just take a number. Then he proceeds to piss me off and I want to grab his too-long bangs off his face and rip them from his gay little head. I hate the government sometimes. So then I'm all pissed off, and apparently my mom thinks this is a good time to tell me what a fuck up I am. She wants to go to Bob Evans but I have no appetite so I get dropped off at fucking 08:30 at work. FUCK.
The good things that happened this weekend are as follows: had fun Friday night with my friends, even tho Dooger took me home and tried to fuck me, but I wouldn't let him, got new glasses on Saturday for my birthday, even tho they won't be here til next week, had fun with my friends on Saturday night, and got to see my pretty Psyndi and Stromp, even tho I wasn't really drunk and I wanted to be, Sunday I got a delicious mariachi pizza from Donatos, even tho I had no one to share it with and the cats ate 1/2 a piece each (it has jalapenos on it!)
Now, a video.
So, I'm still busted up over Poke. I don't know why. I'm so fucking angry with him for how he left me, so pissed that he is being so cold and mean to me for no goddamn reason, and so disgusted that he is fucking that stupid whore. For real. Everyone is like "oh just fuck him, he wasn't worth it anyway, etc." but it's not that easy. If I ever see him, especially if he's with her, I'm going to bash her head against the concrete and slap him across his goddamn mouth with my bloody palm. (Yeah, I wish I could really do that, I'm too much of a pussy to try it and I'm already facing 3 days in jail for this ovi, so I never would, and you all know it. But it's a pleasant thought.)
Yet another video.
The disgusting thing that happened to me that was actually quite pleasant is not for the faint of heart. I really shouldn't even talk about it, but it was such a relief that I have to share. So, I have nice cute feet, and I used to regularly get pedicures. I haven't had one in about nine months though! My toes are cute and don't have jaggedy nails or anything, but this one nail on my left big toe was kinda hurting. So I'm like, looking at it all close up and shit, and I'm like why the fuck does this hurt so much?! Turns out that my cute lil nail had been growing back into my skin. I couldn't stand the pain, it hurt just to brush against it, so I busted out the clippers and the little scraper/cuticle stick thing, and I went to it. Aaaah, such relief and instantly no pain when I finally got my nail out from under my skin. OMG. I could walk without having to lift up my big toe! There was a lot of blood though, so much that I really almost yakked. But I didn't mind, I was fucking thrilled that the pain was gone. I'll have to keep an eye on it to make sure that doesn't happen again.
The last video.
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