As of last night, I have no boyfriend and no job. I'm 28 and awesome.
The Cliff's Notes version will just say that after a bar outting (I was sober, mind you), there was a verbal fight (and I was pretty silent, mind you) that ended with my emptying my drawers at Bill's house, backing up all of my belongings (he can have my toothbrush and shampoo for all I care) and proceeding to drive home. But WHY just drive home when you can drive home AND simultanously put notice in at your job? I'm a multi-tasker.
Then you go home all frustrated and amped and sweaty where only Pepsi and Futurama can save you and the phone calls begin. All night long. Drunk dials where one minute, a person is sweet and the next, they are in total alcoholic mode and their sister is calling you an asshole. I'm an asshole!? you don't even know what BAR YOU WERE IN OR WHAT CITY, LADY!?!? That's when the "I'm too good for this kind of psycho shit" attitude kicks in and you stop answering the phone.
Pretty awesome that a fight gets picked with me the day before all of my best friends are getting together to celebrate my birthday. I mean, seriously, I can't think of a better time for this to happen. I wish I had planned this disaster myself. And I'll go out and have fun without the bastard but I have this sneaking suspicion that it will be all my fault or that I'll have to patch things up. Why do I not see Vegas in my future? Why do I not see a future in my future? Fuck 'em.
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