badbadzoot's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- An entry! With some substance! (notice I said \"some\"...) I am so screwed. But first, I must agree with my British friends that America is stupid when it comes to drinking age. How can it be that young 18 year old males can be drafted into the army, yet cannot celebrate a victorious battle with a cold one??? (again, another silly American thing, COLD BEER. But this is also a Canadian thing, so Canadians are silly too. Hosers.) Of course I say that out of pure speculation, because I have never been to Europe, but I watch a lot of TV, and to my TV knowledge, the United Kingdom likes their beer lukewarm. Is this true? Anywho. America is silly. And I am a silly American. And right now I'm bleeding to death. So I'm a bleeding silly American woman who is on the verge of murdering someone. Alright! Mr. B had a nice Birthday Weekend. He didn't get drunk Friday because he was driving, but had a beer (even though he hates beer...) and a shot and a nice visit with friends. Whereas I was at my mom's babysitting my foster sister The Queen. Man- that was the easiest babysitting job EVER. On Saturday I let The Queen sleep until almost 11am. ha ha. Mom would kill me if she knew that. Mr. B came over to visit and I took The Queen to my step-brothers house for a birthday party for my niece. So The Queen was gone until 6pm! yay! Mr. B and I went home, I had to clean up the house a bit and we waited for Mr. B's friends J and P to come over so they could whisk Mr. B away to get him drunk. Fun. I did a little shopping, got some cute stuff, especially a shirt that says "Your Favorite Brunette", I shall post a picture someday..... promise (haha!). Picked up The Queen, ate dinner (PIZZA!) and watched "A Bugs Life" on TV and she passed out at 8pm. Mr. B texted me at about 7:30pm and he was already drunk. This is what he texted: "Im drunk but to let u know your my everything my focus my dreams" aaawwwweeeeee how sweet! He's a happy drunk. Good. I'm not dealing with no angry drunk. Or dickhead drunk. Happy drunk is good. I texted him back "saying thanks for not calling me!" and he says "Y cant I call you sexy butt" and then called me. He told me he was hiding in the bathroom so the guys didn't have to listen to him being all sentimental and crap. He was telling me how amazing and special I was and that God is awesome and how he's so happy God brought me into his life and how much he loves me and blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. It was sweet. Sunday he was complaining that his pecs hurt. Why you ask? Apparently whilst drunk he did 20 push ups. "Because I had a moment of hyperness". Riiiiight. He's not in terrible shape, but he doesn't do push ups very often..... Crazy guy. And I'm marrying him. Funny. (but in a good way!) Sooooo on to why I'm so screwed. One designer called in sick today. The "senior" designer left at noon. So it's just me and my supervisor and the proofreader. I've got a BUTTLOAD of jobs to do right now. So with the PMS I'm not happy at work right now. Not at all. Plus one of the sales reps is going nuts and his changes to an ad make absolutely no sense. Fun. So on top of my work to do, I have to pick up the slack of the other two designers. My supervisor is helping, but it still sucks. Majorly. They'll get their dues! I won't be here next Monday, and we should be SUPER busy by then! ha ha! Suckers!!!!! On that note, I should really get going. Work and all. sucks. RANDOM FACT ABOUT ZOOT: 12:59 p.m. - 2006-06-26 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||