|the rootin'est tootin'est cowgirl.
||[Dec. 16th, 2004|09:54 am]
woke up at 7:30. shower runs cold half the time. exterminator still not here. run to the post office to pick up a package for that old battleaxe, jenny. after five minutes they tell me the line i'm waiting in isn't running. then when i finally wait in the (long) line, i get cut in front of. its okay though- the girl cutting in front of me is in the same boat, isn't so much as cutting as has a better start off the mark when a postal worker says "anyone waiting for pick ups?" of course, i then hate the girl, when i say that her pickup is just 3 months of mail she let sit in the box. when i get up to the line, less a-glower & more a-sleep, the lady says she can't find my package, because they havn't finished unloading yesterday's boxes. so home i come, to wait for the bug-killers. ho-hum. this is life. & people fight so hard to keep it, people just assume that i'm wrong, that they should be allowed to live. o mankind, i didn't listen to the screams of the dinosaurs, so why should i listen to yours? though admittedly your women are hot. or at least some of them. o here is the bug-killer. i feel a certain kinship.|