Wednesday, May 03, 2006

DING!

DING DONG THE BITCH IS DEAD! SING IT HIGH! SING IT LOW! DING DONG THE STUPID WHORE IS DEAD!

Well....maybe not really dead. But with the amount of karmic juju coming her way, she’ll be hit by a truck any minute now.

Sunday night, she came over and dropped off the key, explaining helpfully that she’d left the paint out for us.

What?

I went over, and she hadn’t painted, she’d just put a layer of primer in two out of the three rooms she was supposed to paint, those being the rooms she had painted in giant green polka dots and brown/orange/blue/green stripes.

Horizontal stripes. How very mod.

To add insult to injury, she had not even paid for the primer herself. She had CHARGED it to my dad at Hughes!!! Um, isn’t that called “stealing?”

She had also not fixed the fence, nor had she repaired the screen door she broke. She also owes me for the last three weeks of electricity and gas she’s been enjoying on my tab. Whore.

At least she’s gone.

A.S. and I spent our first night in our new home last night, and what a romantic affair that was. Nauseous from paint fumes, sore and exhausted from heavy lifting, the inflatable mattress pooted every time one of us rolled over. The dog also gnawed her ass all night since I couldn’t find her medicine until this morning, and at about four a.m. she got this enormous hairball from all that butt chewing. Hark, was that the song of the lark I heard? Nay, twas the hideous yacking of the dog wretching butt hair in the corner.

However, at the current moment we have a real bed, a chest of drawers with no clothes in it, a painted bedroom, one coat of paint in the living room (in a dreadful color I chose spontaneously to avoid bursting the vein that was throbbing in my head at the paint counter at Lowes), and the coffee pot. Everything else is scattered. So another all night marathon of painting, and I should have the study and living room painted too, and we can start really putting stuff away. Being a Cancer, I can’t stand not to have my little shell just the way I want it. Compromising with A.S. is hard, since he likes spare, symmetrical spaces, and already has the bed turned the wrong way, so the shui is completely screwed. However, it’s hard to argue with a man who has moved four truckloads of furniture for you and who likes your butt its natural size. Don’t look a gift fiancé in the mouth, I always say.

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