So every now and again I like to go out for a few beers after work on Fridays. It is just plain good times. When I made it home all by myself on the bus this evening (without falling!) I considered it to be kind of a personal victory. Especially since I made a huge fuss about how I didn't need to take a cab and refused to take donations for cab fare. (In hindsight, it is never dumb to take a cab. Ever.)
However, all my feelings about being proudly independent rapidly vanished upon arrival at home when I opened the bathroom door to find yet another (yes, ANOTHER) dead mouse on the bathmat. I am kind of spazzing out right now. It is a very surreal moment for me. I am sitting on the sofa, watching the music video for Glass Tiger's "Don't Forget Me When I'm Gone" and thinking about the dead fucking mouse in my bathroom. Just think about it for a moment. I have been drinking since about 5 in the afternoon. I kind of need to use said bathroom. My bladder is not bionic. But I can't. Because there is a dead mouse in there. I am too drunk to drive anywhere else, otherwise I'd be halfway to my parents' house in Surrey right now. There is no way around it. I am going to have to deal with this mouse bullshit. ALONE. I have nowhere else to go.
EFF.
An open letter to boys:
Dear Boys,
I am kind of totally annoyed with you for not asking me out on dates. I blame you for this mouse situation, because had you asked me on dates I might have a boyfriend right now and HE could be dealing with this frigging mouse situation. So yeah. You suck. But still consider dating me. I am super fun.
Sincerely,
Sarah
PS: I hate you, cat who brought the mouse in through the open window. I hate you SO HARD.
PPS: Frig, man.
1 comment:
That seems like a Bridget Jones moment. You need to attend a Mt Pleasant Social Club event- I found their Myspace page. Do you want to go see Stephen's band play at the Lamplighter Monday night?
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