Day 193: When you wake up and it's the fucking apocalpyse outside and your job still expects you to come in.

So I have temporarily moved in with my new boyfriend because I came over to his place early this morning and I wake up and the whole fucking sky is taking the biggest piss on the earth EVER. And everywhere is flooded so bad that the bus drivers can't even get the kids to their houses and my job was seriously threatening to give me points for calling off. MIND YOU IT WAS THREE FUCKING HOURS BEFOREHAND. There was a goddamn river in front of the casino. Are you SHITTING ME? Gah.

Day 192: Can someone explain to me how a toddler

can get hot dog chili all over the house when we kept it in ONE ROOM and watched him the whole time????!?!?!??!?!!??

Also, UPDATE, Ben's still amazing. And Handsome. And mine. And he hasn't gotten sick of me yet. Despite the fact that I pick on him. Then again, he won't let me live down the fact that I struggled for like five minutes with a child proof capped pill bottle but Dorian, who isn't even two yet, waltzed into the room like a boss and opens it right away.

Day 191: Shit yourself car rides with Tamara and Erin.

Some quotes from a pretty epic morning of sleep deprived barely adults on a sugar rush:
Tamara: *reading a Snapple lid* Bees have hair on their eyes.
Erin: Why THE FUCK do they have hair on their eyes?
Tamara:*chokes on drink*

Tamara: I'm going to give it to Cory when I get home but he probably won't want it right away.
Erin: This where my future husband and I would get a divorce. "Honey! I brought you a candy bar!" "Thank sweetie, but I'll eat it later!" "SHUT THE FUCK UP AND EAT IT RIGHT NOW OR WE'RE GETTING A DIVORCE AND I'M LEAVING THESE ASSHOLE KIDS WITH YOU BECAUSE THEY ALL LOOK LIKE YOU WHICH MEANS THEY ARE DAMN UGLY!"
Tamara: *pissing herself* That's so horrible. Funny. But horrible.

Erin: It was so horrible that Donna sent an email to the other supervisors basically telling them that I had had a fucking horrible night and that if Paula had any shit to spew about it that she could go suck a dick. I was thinking about how I would have worded that message had I been Donna. "It was crazy up in there. It was so crazy that I'm pretty sure Erin shit herself twice. That's how fucking crazy it was."

Erin: I mean, I come into work in the worst moods and I'm like "GODDAMNITPISSSHITFUCKCOCKASSTESTICLES..." *giant smile at fake guest* Hi! How may I help you?

Erin: I mean the grill looked like someone shit all over it. And she didn't understand why I wanted to clean it. Fat people. I swear. She didn't need a fucking hot dog. She needed to walk off the calories she gained just by looking at my hot dogs.

Tamara: what do I want to drink? Hmmm... oh-
Erin: GRAPE JUICE! HOLY SHIT!

Day 190: REALLY, BITCH??! REALLY?!?!?!

Ok, seriously, this stupid bitch has called off on me TWICE when I was working the damn overnight shift and takes forfuckingever to count down her fucking drawer when she comes because she just HAS TO turn the damn dollars the same way and CAN'T do it after I fucking leave. And makes a stock list of sixfuckingteen million things that she doesn't actualy fucking need. And she's always AT THE VERY LEAST? TEN DAMN MINUTES LATE. At the end of the day though? I never talk shit about her to ANYONE at work. I blow off steam to my boyfriend or my best friend, but NEVER anyone that it's ever going to get back to her and create a hostile work enviroment or uneccessary drama. I just bottle it the fuck up, bite the goddamn bullet and fucking go to work AND I DON'T PUNCH HER IN THE DAMN FACE when she comes in late for the 3410484179827301928309283092183120947189479384th time.

So when I fucking told this same bitch that I had a non stop goddamn line until four a.m and both my supervisor, the beverage supervisor and any number of fucking security guards could have fucking vouched for me, and I had barely any time to breathe let alone clean anything and I did my goddamn best to keep it as clean as possible.

Then I find out that your bitchface was talking shit about me to the new girl saying that I don't do my fucking job? That I don't do anything right? And then you leave a list of shit that "needs to be done" every shift TARGETED AT ME. All because I forgot to take your stupid trash out. Bitch, suck my dick. SUCK MY HUGE THROBBING HAIRY DICK. YOU ARE MAKING THIS A HOSTILE WORKPLACE, and I don't give a shit anymore. I don't get paid near enough to deal with your bullshit. So hell yeah, I'll take this shit to a manager. There are tons of fucking people who'd love your goddamn hours that apparently you feel the need to call off every other fucking weekend for anyhow. SO GET THE FUCK OUT.

SHIT. FUCK. DAMN IT. PISS.

I needed to get that out.

Day 189: WHY THE HELL IS JIMMY BUFFET SO DAMN POPULAR?!?!?!?!

IT WAS JUST A FUCKING COVER BAND!!!!! WHY WERE THERE SO MANY DAMN PEOPLE AND WHY THE FUCK DID THEY STAY UNTIL FUCKING FOUR A.M?!?!!? WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT???? THE?????? FUCK?????????? OH MY GOD.

Day 188: If we didn't jump off this cliff together, we'd never jump at all. :)

Tonight was pretty stinken awesome. I'm so glad that Ben and I click the way we do. And he doesn't think I'm a crazy person when I have a giggle fit over the fact that I ran over someone on Grand Theft Auto.

Day 187: Meet Mister Dorian :)

This little punkin is Dorian. He's almost two years old. He's the newest addition to my life. And like most men, he's more interested in his video games than taking a picture with me. He's my boyfriend's son. And he's adorable. He calls me Enen. He's probably the cutest kid in the entire world. Then again, I'm biased.