Create, hate.

A review of my uneventful week where the tiniest of things are noticed.

Nothing happened until Thursday, where I was going to have Josh come over so I could explain my amazing zombie-movie idea explaining how Cassidy disappears. I've been inside the house for a sodding month and a half now and was looking forward to having someone come over, but I was blown off. And I don't know why either-he never answers the phone. Seriously-this was a big event-I made sure everything was clean and I actually didn't wear the pajamas I spend my days in and went to bed early and all that stuff. My parents are quick to point out the unreliable nature of the people I know. The dwindling list of people-everyone's at school when I take a break but everyone's partying when I go to school-how does that work? I'm either sick or tired and the rare occasion where I'm not I am blown off. My insides boil but the pills make me stay quiet-the murderous rage that should be tearing holes in the wall until my hands look like hamburger is drugged to become more depressed than I was in the first place. It's hard to say "Look what you've done" to deaf people. It was incredibly rude to blow me off in the first place, but to not answer for it is a slap in the face.

The only high point of my week was getting a free grapefruit from Bob from Harmon's. Bob and Randy, you know? This was the Bob-from the commercials. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate free produce, but isn't it terribly miserable that the only happy thing that happened this week was a grapefruit?

Last night was Ruben's birthday party and someone vomited right where I stepped out of the car and I didn't see it because it was dark outside, so I spent my time at the party slowly being nauseated by some sort of odor that reminded me of elementary school and it was only upon leaving that I saw the massive pile of upchuck by the van. I'm sensitive to smells and retched as I had to step over it and drive home gingerly pressing the pedals of the car with my toes.

After further inspection today in the light, I got most of it off via frosted grass, but nonetheless armed myself with gloves, a steel wire brush, carpet cleaner, and ammonia.

These were my new, specifically-asked-for-Christmas shoes, too.

Add in the things that would be little by themselves and you have me pretty pissed off at everything. I'm waiting for a way out-a job, a car? Coincidentally in the middle of a recession. "Half the world is down the toilet and half's on its way,"-Ministry. It's like being aware of being dead and you realize how terribly boring it is to just sit there and rot and the people you want to swing by forgot you're still thinking and you don't want charity from anyone else.