POP!

Tonight I got the Distraction to take me to dinner. To my favorite restaurant. And he bought cake.

Tomorrow he's taking me to a movie.

Granted I'd much rather the reason he's being so nice NOT be stress at work that just might make my head explode so help me God woman if you change one more pointless, fricking thing I just might snap and and brain you with the leg I tore from your stringy, pointy body and then use the blood to paint my face before screaming and chanting as I dance about your entrails calling down the eternal wrath of god upon your house, name, and your annoying little offspring.*

Pant. Pant. Pant.

Thank everything that is good and just and right in this world that I'm getting overtime for this shit.



*Every part of this rant is entirely fictional. I'm not nearly strong enough to tear anyone's limb off. Nor do I have the ability to command the wrath of any god (that I know of)(wouldn't that be an awesome party trick if I could though?). Any exploding of my head would be completely coincidental but could be entirely blamed on her.