bitter: party of me
hello gentle reader.
its been a while since we've talked. ive ignored and neglected you much like britney does her children. and now im crawling back only so i can moan and whine, so see?, nothings changed!
can we converse for a moment about how bitchy i have become? frankly i was shocked to discover that it was even possible for me to become more of a bitch, but, it turns out it is, and that it doesnt take much. if youve ever been annoyed for no specific reason and felt the need to have your misanthropic feelings justified, i suggest taking a job in customer service where you wear a name tag, a polyester suit and have a sign prominently displayed by your side that says "ring bell for assistance." i can supply you with an eight year old girl who enjoys doing just that if need be.
i appreciate that as your customer service representative, you may be under the mistaken impression that i care about your problems, but let me assure you: you are wrong. i. do. not. care. i do not worry or obsess over them, or take them home with me (though i do apparently blog about them). im sorry that youre sick, and stood out in the cold for an alleged ten minutes, but, you did that by your own choice. i did not ask or tell you too; in fact, i did it myself so you wouldnt have to be inconvenienced. i didnt expect a thank you, but i also didnt deserve your lecturing and ranting at me where other people could witness your hissy fit and desire to needlessly belittle someone over what amounted to a simple miscommunication. and, if you really are that sick, why didnt you send one of the other people you live with, who are also home right. this. minute., down to stand in the cold?
just thinking out loud here buddy.
p.s. i also dont care about your inability to have "hot choco" (who even calls it that anymore?) on demand. if you want it that badly, buy it yourself or go to starbucks like a normal person. the stuff we serve tastes like shit anyway.