Babies, SEA, writers and pie.

The yin and yang of my day, as it were.

I work for a while. Yay. I call Casey, and there’s no need to come out to help move. Yay x2. (Well, that one’s a little more serious than the first.)  I get home and try to watch A Raisin in the Sun, but fall asleep for two hours.  I wake up, bike ride to Venetian Shores, which was quite a nice ride in the dark.  I stop at Boston Market for a chicken sandwich and potatoes (trying to be healthy here, peoples), when I get asked, rather obnoxiously, why I’m eating alone.  I shrug and smile.  Next thing I know, Mr. Obnoxious is shoving apple pie in my face, telling me I shouldn’t be eating alone.  Quite frankly, it defeated the purpose of the bike ride (and the potatoes in lieu of the mac & cheese), but it made my evening…for a few minutes.  pie.

I stopped at CVS on my way home and picked up some cleany things, and then I made the stupid mistake of heading to the computer.  Shoulda went straight to cleaning.  Shoulda put some music on and danced around.  Shoulda put the movie back on.  Shoulda read a book.  But no- I had to see pictures of Liz and Rob’s bastard child.  This poor, pathetic, overweight, fucked up little creature is going to be alive someday.  Two people who should never have been allowed to breed, have.  This is what Chris was referring to: the idiots breed like fucking bunnies while the smart people think things through and decide when a child is best and can be cared for properly.  “Baby Jimenez” is going to have a lazy, fat, broke father and an overbearing, angry, psychopath mother.  Poor thing was doomed before it was conceived.

So then, looking to gchat for diffusion, I read that Chris is Seattle-bound.  My vacation this year? Philly.  His vacation?  Fucking Seattle.  He’s happier now than he ever was before, and it’s because I’m not there.  God damn do I make everything fucking miserable.

But in my minute of need, I get a text from Cory that he will be unavailable to get together this weekend, but he would like to next week.  I bound him to at the very least a phone call.  I guess that was supposed to be a pick-me-up.  I think it came perfectly timed as I was perusing Mike’s Facebook page, wondering if I missed him.  (‘Cause a small part of me does.)  I’m too busy for Cory; Cory is too busy for me — even if we decided we liked each other.  It’s quite perfect, and utterly depressing.

Vocabulary?  I don’t think so.  Try cleaning, tv, and WoW.  I have turned into the very thing I hated.  Can’t wait for school to start, so I have excuses not to waste my time with movies and television.

Maybe I’ll have a drink too.  That should hold me until tomorrow, when things better be fucking better.

Addendum, 6/22/10: I guess I needed to get that out.  I no longer feel that way about any of the people involved in the life of a likely beautiful, very much loved baby girl.  Knock ’em dead, Kaylee.

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