Friday, August 2, 2013

OK, Universe. That's Enough.

My week is not improving.

We saw a place last night, but must now wait until employment is verified and all that. And other people were calling about it while we were there. Boo. Hiss.

Husband was supposed to be meeting a friend's boss for an interview today. Said boss apparently left for the day, and friend's advice - to take Monday off for this - is less-than-stellar. Friend swears this is in the bag, that if Husband quits his current job the boss will hire him the same day, but I am a bit nervous about such things. I mean, if this boss is this flaky about even seeing Husband, how do we know he'll actually hire Husband?

Work was long and annoying.

I am now home and hoping to avoid all housemates, as I am not sure I can be trusted not to either curse the ever-living fuckpants off of someone, kick them in the 'nads, or both if they so much as look in my general direction. Hence, the following letter.

Dear Universe:

This week has sucked balls from start to finish. I am using all means at my disposal to better my situation. It would be nice if you'd help rather than keep spreading your buttcheeks and raining dookie on my head.

Thanks so much,
The ocelot.

No comments:

Post a Comment