May 06, 2003 - 7:48 pm
Man alive am I irritable today!
I thought I was in a fantastic mood. I mean, I got out of both of my classes early, and although the SSDAN office isn't moved yet (which means a considerable lack of cheddah unless I work all weekend) it was nice to be done downtown by 4pm.
Unfortunately, this did not mean the chance to go straight home and work on my evergrowing pile of homework. Instead, I had to take Stacey Jane to get her car in Pinckney (the Hyundai with the racing stripes made of electrical tape just wasn't cutting it anymore) and then I played rockin' roommate and took our hellabig pile of bottles back, using the cash as a starter on my pile o' grocery money.
End result was my car not pulling into my parking lot until after 7pm a fuckuva lot poorer with more groceries than I could carry in one load (and usually I can pack them on, beleed dat!).
I come in with my arms full of food and ask Stacey to come help me. She says she can and explains that she's on her way out to see a movie that she doesn't want to see with the boyfriend she spends 60% of her free time with lately. This wouldn't have gotten to me at all, but when we got in and I explained what she owed me she balked: "For that?!?!"
I gestured to the groceries covering the kitchen table, floor and countertops. "Yes, all that."
She seemed annoyed and ran out, telling me she'd pay the bill I'd asked her to cover and leaving me to put away the groceries and take out the rotting food I would throw away in the process. I'm sure she didn't mean that that was all she'd get (she still owed me some cold hard cheddah after all of that), but it was a big fat annoyance to me that she couldn't be bothered with what I thought was a reasonable grocery bill (still less than she spent last time she went), even though I'd spent the last three hours helping her out and doing a chore neither of us really had time for while she had...what? Gotten ready to go out and have fun? I have an evening of homework ahead of me, thank you very fucking much. With this much leisure on my hands, it's a good thing I at least took SOME time to put in my share, right kids?
Ack. I'm so cranky. Unreasonably cranky. Stacey Jane, if you read this...my apologies. I'm just a big fat cranky bastard right now. I'l be over it in 5....4....3....2...1...
And to add a concrete stamp on the fact that I am, in fact, fucking ornery, I read Jim's message board today (which I refuse to link to in fear I may send more Canada Vs. America debaters his way). Lately, it's been full of people throwing immature insults and arguments back and forth. In fact, I'd say that Matt, Jim's brother, and myself are probably the only people who regularly read and yet STILL have intelligent or funny additions to make. 80% of the other shit posted is crap, arguments between readers over the stupidest shit, with the most PAINFUL logic behind it. My plea to return to the old times of shenanigans and such was countered by one such moron with a real hardon for insulting SOMEONE, ANYONE...and that someone happened to be me. Mind you, I've gotten better arguments out of my cat, who can at least space his meows appropriately and maybe knock something off of the counter or bite my ankle to express REAL distress, so normally I would just giggle at his inability to spell and feel like a better person for just NOT responding. Proof that I'm NOT a bigger person today was solidified by my catty response, in which I sank at least HALF way down to his level. Mature? Not today says I.
Anyhow, the point is that I'm disappointed in myself for letting two things that normally would have rolled off my back not only annoy me, but get me worked up enough to still feel that way ten minutes later. Though I'm sure I'll feel better pretty damned soon, I'm typing this out now, where it will live in cyberspace until the day I decide to finally lock one of my entries (unlikely) or worse, delete one (even more unlikely). I prolly should have waited until later to update, but then again, what would I have written on. I mean, without my cranky, what am I? Really?
