I hear the front door open and slam shut. I listen for a minute, and hear no footsteps, so I go out to investigate. Of course you know cause im way more threatening than any intruder.
I went in the living room to see who I had to kill, and saw nothing. There was no car in the driveway, the door was shut, but the porch light was on. I was about 90% sure that someone broke in, turned on the porch light, and left again. I then started yelling at the dog for sitting there like an unprotective pile of shit while I tiptoed through the house like I was Tom Cruise in Mission Infuckingpossible.
Maybe Im a big baby, or maybe Im a realist who watches Law & Order: SVU, but being murdered is NOT what I had on my list of shit to do today. Actually, my list consisted of going to the bank before noon, and eating. Check and check. Hello responsible adulthood.
I don't want some hot detective pawing at my dead body while im wearing a dirty AC/DC tshirt and pajama pants with roses, hearts and stars on them, which have a hole in them...two to be exact, but thats not my fucking point. Also, Ive been off for the past 3 days, and haven't washed my hair cause I straightened it...and it looked so pretty straight, so i didn't want to wash it to have to re-do it, which is also not my god damn point. Focus! The point is, I dont want the detective to be like, "dude this chick is hot, but what the fuck is she wearing? Its like 4 in the afternoon, why is she in pajamas? She must not have a real life...and omg look at her hair! That shit hasnt been washed in like 3 days." Shut up Stabler, you are balding.
I told one of my friends this story, and hes all like, "thats retarded. what is wrong with you?" Im like, "dude come on dont you watch SVU? How many victims are 30 something soldiers (which he is)? Exactly. NONE! Now how many are 20somethings that are home alone? Like a million!"
So he gets all soldiery on me and is like, "so grab the phone, a knife, a baseball bat. be a person, not a victim" and Im like, "ok im done talking to you now"
Why cant I just get some fucking sympathy? I feared for my life, and all he can do is insult me. Whatevs, I went back to playing Sorority Life on Facebook, and reading blogs that are better than mine.
Which brings me to my next topic: Im a sucky blogger. I have posted in like half a month. Yeah I know Im keeping my whole 3 followers waiting. Actually...its only 1...Since I follow myself, and made my sister follow me...
I didnt even think to post today until someone asked me when i was gonna post again. Hi Lisa, this post is for you, even if you think I use the F word too much.
I guess since Im no longer bed ridden and drugged up, I found more productive things to do, like play Sorority Life (see above).
Btw, my mouth is doing much better...I still have to pick food out of the holes in my mouth...and apparently I eat a LOT of chicken, cause thats what im always picking out of it. Except once I did pick out steak...and a stitch.
Im starting to get sleepy...and now Bones is on...cue horrifying nightmares and incredibly weird dreams about Steve Buscemi.
Last time I fell asleep watching SVU, I dreamed that Steve Buscemi was a soldier home for leave who was helping solve a murder...and he noticed there were tourists who must have done it cause they looked happy? Make sense? yeah not to me either...and it was MY dream...Id like to know what the fuck my subconscious was telling me there...
Its getting late, Im a bit tipsy, and Bones is getting creepy...Time for me to go to bed...after I finish chugging my drink and talk shit to skanky looking teenagers on Sorority Life. Its good to be a responsible adult.
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