Warning: There is a rant ahead. If you don't want to read it, I suggest you avert your eyes.
Andrew, you can go fuck yourself.
You have no fucking right to be mad at me for yelling at you. NONE. Maybe if this were the first time it happened, or maybe even the second time. But this has happened WAY MORE than that. I am fucking tired of being
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So... I go outside. I'm chasing around a black cat in the dark. I ask Chris where you are, and he says you're in your bedroom. What was I supposed to assume you were doing?
So yes, I felt perfectly justified in yelling at you. I was mad, but I wasn't ready to blow a gasket. The post in your LJ about hating us was what really put me over the edge, because I felt it was totally uncalled for.
As for the cat boxes... Well, there's a reason I didn't do them, but I don't want to talk about it over LJ. Some pretty serious shit went down on Tuesday and Wednesday, which you completely missed due to work and stuff.
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And again, I was drunk when I posted that LJ, something I'm paying very dearly for, mind, body, and soul. As you've likely noticed.
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