sick of fucking everything

Ha ha ha. Yes, I fuck everything. Wiseass.


I'm just fucking sick of people and their bullshit. I spent Easter with people I can't stand. Then I sat this morning and had an argument with someone I don't think I particularly like (and the feeling is mutual, I'm sure.) Next, we had to go get diapers and stuff, and we ran into a bunch more people I didn't care to see. My dad was incessantly asking yet again when we are going to have another kid at dinner (the nice quiet dinner my family was hoping to have alone) until finally I was like, "Actually, I'm having some fertility problems. And it's really rude to ask people such personal questions." And he was all "Ehhh, I can ask whatever I want, tough guy! It's not rude, it's family!" So they leave, we go to the mall, and there is my sister in law with her husband and kid. They're not all that bad alone, it's when you get them in a group situation (such as, say, Easter dinner) that I want to gouge their fucking eyes out and tell them to buy their kid some decent clothes. Our kid loves their kid though, so of course we had to spend some time. A la laa.


While John chilled with them, I went to Deb and discovered the Plus Size department. The 36 Dubbs need more than the junior department can provide these days, it seems. I was pretty stoked 'cause the shirts over there have thick enough straps to wear a bra underneath, and they're a little bit longer, which is good for fat tits and fat guts. The only thing is.... wow. They sure do look like fat girl clothes. I do not look like a regular girl with big boobs. I look like a fat girl. Eck.


I think I need more Prozac. Two a day isn't doing it anymore. A punching bag would be good, too. A really soft one, though. Cause I'm a pussy. A really, really, really, really mad pussy.