Sorry Kristen...

Didn't mean to keep you waiting--Friday I was babysitting and today neither temp agency has anything for me, so it's another lounge around and listen to music while bemoaning my status.

I actually should be really worried that I'm not working very steadily. But I'm not. I got an eye infection from another debaucherous sleep-in-my-contacts night and so I need today to dwell in peaceful darkness and pretend that my right eye doesn't want to just fall out.

Keleen gave me some shit for it though and I should be good to go soon enough. Saturday I just wanted to die, though. Utter death. I. hate. eye. pain. I broke my finger and cried at first, I've ruptured ear drums without a tear. Eye pain? Hurts too much to cry and I hate that.

Blah Blah Blah. Pain. Boo.

I took Murray (the 7 year old) to a birthday party on Friday at Chelsea Piers, and realized it was the first time I had been there and I only went there because I was being paid to. So I've decided if my eye doesn't fall out or rot out, I need to actually see stuff in the city. It was a gymnastics party and I watched him jump into those foam blocks and was taken waaaaaaaay back to my gymnastics days. Man, I was so not cut out for that. Nerves of steel, you must have for that. Nerves of wet noodles is what I've got.

But I got birthday cake, so I guess it all works out in the end.

Saturday was roommate bullshit. Remember my invisible roommate Laura's passive-agressive 95 Theses? (she had the note posted on our door) She called to talk about it, and it's a good thing Devon was talking to her because had I been on the phone it would have been Game.Over. I don't get mad very often, but when I do, it is not pretty. In essence, she wants us to pretend that the other side of our apartment doesn't exist and it is solely hers. Many problems with this as I'm sure you can imagine:

1)She doesn't pay half the rent. She has no rights to half the apartment.
2)She is never home. She claims she needs her space to come home to. You know what? So do we. So how selfish is it of her to demand that we can never use that space to escape because of the off-chance it might be one of the two times she comes home a month. We said we won't touch her stuff, or even sit on her goddamned bed, but to act like all that dead space isn't there is irrational and unreasonable.
3)Johnny (her boyfriend) thinks she's being a pushover with us. I don't even know what to say except she may like Johnny to "daddy" her, but don't dare pull that shit with me. You ain't my daddy, you ain't my fuck, and you don't pay rent. You have absolutely no say in the matter, Mr. High-and-Righteous-who-Taped-Himself-Having-Sex-With-Another-Girl.

And on. And on. But I'm just getting mad again. But like I said, it was a good thing it was Devon and not me, I wouldn't have been nearly as diplomatic.

My jeejer cream is in. I'm gonna go pick it up from the Post Office, and then I might just use that shit all day. Until I drop, kids. Until I drop.