shit
so I stayed at felix last night, didnt answer my phone at 8 cos sarah has a loft bed and i didnt want to get down. get up at 10, check messages while peeing. its the realestate agent. showing the house at 3 for the final assessment or whatever. really big deal. so I hustle home and start cleaning up, then call her to warn her about the wall, she acts like its no big deal, then linda (owns the house i am in) calls.
totally bitches me out, i made up some shit about moving furniture, i lied and felt like crap and i meant to tell her the truth, she totally doesnt believe me. i hate lying and i oly do it when i am cornered, and i am terrible at it.
there's paint in the garage. so i'll paint sunday.
i'm getting all my shit out saturday so i dont have to deal with this, i'd rather live at home and be a pig.
fucking fucking shit. my face is all rough and dry from using other people's face wash, i'm broke as shit. fucking shit.
i hate stress tired of being stressed out, not wanting to cook lunch even though i am starving cos i just cleaned the kitchen.
fuck fuck fuckety fuck fuck.
oh and i took that 80's band quiz? i'm soft cell. who the fuck is that?
happy birfday, jason.