Yesterday, crazy roommate basically accused me of breaking a (what I think was from IKEA anyway) plate. Um, I’m 32. I’m not going to lie to you about breaking a plate. Get. A. Grip.Lady.
I’m sorry you worked until 9 pm. But, I was simply enjoying my mound-o’-pasta at the table and for some reason I had to hear a tirade about: how I’m on the internet too much, how I plugged my computer into the wrong socket, that I use too much toilet paper, that I owe her money, that I left my coke can on the counter. I mean, really. I had to deal with enough of this crap for years while in America. We’re both adults, and I refrain from telling you that you’re batshit crazy!
Thank goodness, today was bright and sunny, and I was in a much better mood today. So I fucked Federico. Cheers to you all!