Fuck this. Fuck that. Fuck them. Fuck off.

FUUUUUUCK!  I feel like I don't know ANYTHING these days.  There is far too much bullshit going on and I just don't have the time or patience to try to figure out what is what.  One lesson learned, even if you think you are doing the right thing, you aren't.  So I hope you packed your largest umbrella because there is about to be a shit storm and you dear are in the brown eye of it.  This is why people get by on doing fucked up shit all the time.  They are FULLY prepared for whatever it is that they are going to get in return.  I am sorry to my friend that got sucked into the drama, please know that I honestly didn't think that things would go down the way that they did.  I made a mistake.  Which is also conflicting to me...am I even the fuckee?  Or the am I the fucker?  I can't act like I am some kind of victim in all of this, granted I thought what I said was harmless and not going anywhere other than who I was saying it to, but I knew that there was a possibility that it could in the back of my mind. 



I just have no idea how I am even suppose to feel...but I can give you a short list of emotions:
Irritated
Sad
Confused
Fucked
Fucked
Fucked

Failing a.k.a. Winning the Special Olympics

Sooo I have given myself plenty of days to gather interesting writing material, and let me just say, it is just that. My interview = Fail.  There is nothing more awesome than showing up 20 minutes early to interview with someone who is 30 minutes late.  Unless your awesome scale ranges higher than mine for having to keep eye contact with someone who looks like they have the eyes of an 80 year old.  Cataracts.  Not to be rude, but they freak me out a little.  According to him, my work history was too spaced out.  Sorry, I had a baby.  I am pretty sure he just went ahead and hired some fresh faced, perky, high school girl with nice tits.  I may just be bitter haha.  Speaking of tits, in my insane attempt to lose weight, I have gone from a 42DDD to a 44F.  What the fuck does that even mean?

"Hi, My name is God and my idea of fun is giving you breasts SO large that running will be impossible.  You're welcome in advance."

In case you lost track of the fail-o-meter:
Interview = Fail
Tits = Fail

Anywho.  I am not the only one failing in the job search department.  Jason hasn't had any luck either.  Things will get where they need to be tho.  I don't believe in staying in ruts for too long. 

Hmm lets see...the cops got called on Jason because he was smoking what looked to be a "joint" according to what ever idiot had a phone handy at the time.  It wasn't really a joint f.y.i. haha it was a hand rolled cigarette, but the poor souls around here don't know any better.


So we have:
Fail job
Fail tits
Fail cops
Fail idiots
Stellar = Free Incubus tickets.

I guess I can't really complain.