laughing out loud

So, it's been a week. And by "it's been a week", I mean "shitsruff".

-The mombalt was attacked by a cyclist, so I haven't got a car right now.
-Mr. Employer didn't lay down all the requested vacation de niro.
-The public library wants 15 bones outta me. Late charges? What!?
-I pulled the hand towel ring off the bathroom wall and can't for the life of me re-attach it. It's like a tedious game of Operation every time I attempt.

I'd speak more on issue #1, but at this point, I'm done talking. The day you have a 30-year-old man become a dashboard decoration, we'll see how much you like talking about it. Chrrrrrrrrist. The good thing about telling the grandiose tale en masse is that now it's become not my story, but just a story. It sort of has that "it happened to a friend of a friend of mine" sort of feel to it, and that's sort of helped with the whole shock minimization. However, financially, this couldn't come at a worse time for me, seeing as I have less money than MC Hammer in 1993. It's alright, though: I am to my parents as a laid-off factory worker is to food stamps. See: acquisition without reciprocation. What a drag.

So, in an effort to not be a complete and total downer, boyfriend will arrive in 18 short days! Not to get into all the mushy details, but kisses shall be abound. I'm looking forward to rubbing semi-shaved noggin and being told that slap chop is pro. Love-love-love-love. Also, this Tuesday, I'm gettin' my mop chopped for free. Try not to overflow with adoration/jealousy, but this bitch be a hair model. I know, right? So glam. Cristal? Yes, please. I'm attempting to turn my negatives into positives, which is the exact opposite of what I like to do with AIDS. Lolcats help. As do underwear shopping, buttermilk blueberry muffins and cleaning my bathroom.

Oh!

Victorian mission: I'm in the market for some red cowboy boots. If I'm going to end up in Alberta, I may as well look the part. Diggin' it, akshually. Maybe I can adventure for that tomorrow. While I'm at it, I could really go for some friggin' yam fries. Chipotle mayo and I are platonic soul mates. I wish I was joking.

P.S. When written, tacking on an extra question mark always makes things look more confusing/unbelievable. Tack on too many, however, and you become a cartoon character or a fourteen year old girl on msn. Sometimes those are one in the same.

Example:

You put it where?
-vs-
You put it where??
-vs-
You put it where??????