YOU'VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME
Graham doesn't understand why I disturbed to find ants in my underwear after we had sex and threw them on his bedroom floor. What the hell? He isn't even out buying one of those ant killing traps. He wrote a message on the dry erase board on his fridge for his dad to do something about it. Well I hope he realizes I'm not doing him until the ants are gone.
I am so sick of the way his family lives. You walk into their house and it smells like garbage. There's food that should be refrigerated lying out for days, like chicken, fish, steak, and any other dinner leftovers. There are dirty dishes everywhere and their fridge is disgusting. It smells like crap and there's crap like stuck on chocolate on the shelves. I can't stand it. My house is dirty, but we have no food lying out that will spoil, our house does not smell, and the food in our fridge is in fucking containers.
GODFUCKINGDAMMIT WHAT THE HELL IS THEIR DEAL? Dishes are not that hard. Neither is putting your crap in the fridge and not leaving half-eaten food and dirty dishes all over the fucking house.
I think I'm going to boycott his house. I don't like the people there anyway. Except for Graham. And he's not even close to on my good side right now.
I'm so tired of this crap. I want my own place. Where I will keep crap clean. And not leave long nasty hair and used floss all over the house (this is what my family does). And I will not have moldy shower curtains.
FUCK. End transmission.