Ok Thursday, you jackass, this dirty look is all for you. I’ve done everything I can to counteract your lameness.
I put on pants… AND a bra.
I drank the coffee.
I put on makeup as if I were actually going to leave the house.
I restarted the virus scan TWICE because my shit crashed in the middle of it. Twice.
I brushed my hair. (Extreme, I know. True story though.)
And where has this gotten me? Not anywhere. Still no progress on the computer situation. I still feel like a wretch. I’m still grumpy.
I’m going to go wash my face, remove said bra and pants, regress to pj’s. Oh, and take my heavy ass hair down, because that’s not a sock bun, I just have that much fucking hair. Pj’s in the middle of the afternoon may well be the only perk of being jobless and broke. You win, Thursday.
Oh, and abs meme? FUCKLULZ! I’d rather be sodomized with a red hot poker wrapped in acid dipped razor wire. Okay, that may be a little extreme, but you get the point. Two kids. ‘Nuff said.
Wow, I really need to paint my back door. (heh. I said back door.)
