Sari, Your Imaginary Friend (graphiteraven) wrote,
Sari, Your Imaginary Friend
graphiteraven

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p.u.l.s.e

The past few weeks have been a turmoil of events. I'm not even going to begin listing them all off, that would just be pointless. I don't even know where to begin.

Last Friday, Bobby and I got a puppy. He's a 3 month old Pit Bull named Riley, and he's tan brindle, and beautiful. He's extremely well behaved, loves to play, loves his ducky, and loves his new mommie and daddy, and his new sister Lucca. He came home with his other "brother" from the same shelter, Ozzy, who went home with Bob's parents. Ozzy is half Rottie and half Shepherd, and is only 6 weeks old. He looks more like a little Woolly Bear Caterpillar than a puppy, and makes it about 5 feet before falling asleep. Lucca is livid. We have to spend so much time with Riley so that he's trained well and obedient; we even enrolled him in puppy socialization classes through our vet, and then puppy obedience classes through PetSmart. This is going to be fun. :)

I have realized that I have been here at my job for about 5 months now, and have never taken any money out of any of my paychecks to go have any fun. Not to be selfish, but I never do anything for myself; I always give my extra money to Bob. Yesterday, I had saved what I thought was the remaining amount owed on my car, and went in to bust it out of mechanic prison. My mechanic then told me that I still owed $100 on it, and then I realized that at the same time Bob lost his job here at Tribar, I gave him that $100 so he'd have gas to go job hunting. For some reason, I still thought I paid it, and when I found out yesterday that I didn't all of my spirits were let down. This week has been very disappointing, in that it doesnt seem that I can do anything right. I'm scraping change just to make enough to give to my mother for the damn phone bill, and she still calls and demands in a very pissy voice that i need to call her, because her phone is shut off and this and that, blah blah woof woof. All people want from me anymore is money. I got paid today. My paycheck for the week is $304; it's always $304. Guess how much will be leftover? maybe $10, but I doubt it. And the sad part is, it's all going to disappear as soon as it's cashed, in about an hour. Ridiculous. I'm sick of it, I don't bust my ass for nothing, and that's exactly what it feels like. Why can't I ever get ahead? I'm ready to write my mother off again anyway, I can't handle her calling me crying every single FUCKING day that she misses me and she wants me and Rob to come over and this and the other thing, and then I waste a shit load of gas to go out there, thinking she'll leave me alone for a while.  Nope. Then she says that she'll never wench at me about my phone bill, as long as I pay it. Which I have. Every time. In full. No fucking matter what. What does she do? Bitch about what I'm doing on my phone, how I've downloaded another ringtone or subscribed to something that I want to subscribe to. Tell me if I'm right: should it not fucking matter if I'm the one paying it, anyway? What the fuck is the deal here? This isn't worth me stressing out about. I can't seem to go through a day without having really bad lung/heart/chest pains anymore; all I'm doing is stressing myself out to the point of a heart attack (apparently, i have one imminent.) and I can't afford that either. Wait! There's something I can spend money on for myself! Why, I can put myself in the hospital! Where I can spend thousands of dollars on my top notch health care, shitty hospital food, an automated bed, ugly nurses, crappy tv channels, and all the fucked up cardiac patients I could ever want to mingle with! What fucking fun!

I played hookie yesterday. I'm a bad bad girl. 

I laid in the shade reading a book with my dog all day outside, on a purple blanket on our dark green grass, in front of our blue house. I need a day to myself every now and then. Well, off I go to give all my hard earned money away! Hasta La-fucking-vista!

Oh yea, I'm still not smoking. Fucking
Hooray.
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