after feeling sorry that i seem to be rapidly shrinking out of my bridesmaid dress only 3 weeks before the wedding and hanging it back up on the hook in the dining room after trying it on for hemming ideas and so andrea could clip off a color swatch to take with her... somewhere, Bitchy Bacci ran right past me, ripping open the SAME FREAKING FOOT, to the same freaking degree, only deeper.
look. LOOK! i don't know where to even freaking begin putting on bandaids for my walk to work, or how well they're going to stay on in smarmy socks. Fuck. |
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and here's the little terror in a babydoll dress with her scratching post. she's the devil. |
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grah. methinks i'll go take a shower and eat something before i rip something apart in overexaggerated anger. nevermind, andrea just got in the shower. GAH! i think i need to fucking stay home and go back to freaking bed today. that's the fourth freaking injury to my feet within less than 12 hours, and my mood is RAPIDLY declining. what next, i get hit by a car and they're amputated on the walk to work?
I'M ANGRAY. well, not angry, just really fucking irriated. too bad it's not socially acceptible to take a shot of tequila before work.
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