I'm taking an it's all about me time out tonight.
A hot shower, a good dinner, fuzzy pj's, my favorite blanket, a soft pillow and a good book. And quite frankly, I cannot think of anything better to do on a quiet Friday night home alone.
Until tomorrow my friends ... NWTLO signing off.
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2 comments:
My "day off" was spent in a bank and driving back and forth waiting to hear from the bank and then more driving back and forth. Then I came home to crash in my bed for two hours napping. Then I came online to find that BRAZY (aka the dude I had sex with two weeks ago) chewing me out for asking one mindless question and then saying I "owed" him fone (his spelling) sex for what he was about to "show me" online. Hmmm. Ah...so what was a girl to do? Call her best friend to come and watch without his knowing. That is how I spent my free no work day in a small village in Southeastern South Dakota. BRAZY is a full form fuckwit that I do not want to have anything to do with anymore. The fuckwit didn't even ask me why I was so sad this week or anything else remotely dealing with me as a human being. FUCKWIT. Stupid stupid fuckwit. Ah... Stacey, enjoy them fuzzy slippers. Have a good weekend. I work tomorrow and Sunday. Keep in touch.
Some men can be downright stupid ... And something tells me he's not clued in to this unclever trait about himself. Which means, you might have to go cold turkey on him. He is - afer all - baggage you can stand to lose at this point. I mean who has time to waste on fuckwits when Mr. Right is still out there?
Guy Who Doesn't Get It
Jill Sobule, Phil Galdston
Can't you tell that I am dying inside?
Can't you hear my muffled cry?
Do you have to be told a thousand times?
You're the guy who doesn't get it
Don't you know my life's a quiet hell?
I'm a black hole, I'm an empty shell
Does it occur to you I might need help?
You're the guy who doesn't get it
Say I'm in the tub with a razor blade
You'd walk in and ask me "How was your day?"
Then you'd lather up and start to shave
As I bleed on the new tile floor
I'm sure that you really care for me
And your heart's as big as Germany
But you're as blind as they were back in '33
You're the guy who doesn't get it
Say the car exhaust engulfs my brain
The Nebutol is racing through my veins
You'd come in and ask "Are you okay?"
As I close my eyes forever
Can't you tell that I am dying inside?
Can't you hear my muffled cry?
What's going on in those lost, vacant eyes?
You're the guy who doesn't get it
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