holy fucking shit. ok, so today is just not my fucking day ok? i finally got the balls up to post that post below and felt a little better but also a little sick at the same time. and weepy. i know it's not my period because i just wrapped that shit up and mother nature is really being harsh to me w/ that whole thing these last two months. oh, you are over 40 now right? yes, but just barely bitch. well then, i think we'll start overloading you w/ cramps so it feels like every damn useless egg is beating the hell out of you from the inside out on its way down. and for good measure i'm going to zap all of your energy AND take that muscle in your lower back and twist it like a dirty stinking dishrag. ha.
i had an errand to run so i did because sometimes i fear i'm slipping a little and being home all day every day might be starting to get to me a tad. so i went out. ran my errand. stopped in to tarjay thinking she'd cheer me up. not that i need to fucking spend any money, but i have in my possession these rebate cards from the cell phones we got a few months ago. they were calling to me. i looked at bras. because i seriously need new bras. tarjay, why do you have pretty bras for the less endowed users but for the ample bazoombas we get the choice of beige, white or black? huh? i got frustrated and didn't even try any on. i wanted a pretty bra. ppphhhhtttt.
instead i got the hubs a shirt on sale, a set of jersey sheets on sale and some funky halloween socks. i might do a fucking giveaway here, i might keep them for my damn self. i also stopped at the drug store and bought the girl her own eye liner (so she'll stop borrowing mine) and the boy the axe shower gel he's been wanting because he says the stuff we have is for girls. ingrates.
i get home and check the mail. fuckity fuck fuck if i didn't just get a rejection letter from the fucking chamber of fucking commerce. they received 60 applicants, i'm sorry to fucking inform you that you were not one of the 15 lucky bastards we're sending a questionnaire to so then we can then whittle it down to fucking 5 to interview and one to hire. fucktards. douche canoes. i am over qualified for that job but soooooo very much wanted it and was soooooo very sure i'd at least get an interview. what the fuck?! but, i have not cried. damn it to hell. and, i'm not trying to be all i'm-so-fucking-smart-and-wonderful by saying i'm over qualified for that job. i just am.
i really just want to scream. loudly.