Soul mates
Yesterday I woke up to a phone call from a 608 area code. I didn’t want to answer but some cosmic force tickled me into it. That cosmic force is named Fatty:
She’s pretty cute, but the first few days were horrible. She had crazy diarrhea and it would get all over her fur. I would have to wash her butt every time she ate! 
She ended up looking like a weird rat creature. It was actually quite adorable.
Anyway, I answered the phone and right after my sleepy “hello,” I get a “I HATE CARRIE. HOW COULD SHE DO THAT TO AIDAN?”
I totally agree, but not at 730am. Brian being in Wisconsin really sucks. I’ve been getting into work early because of his lousy wake up calls, but not leaving earlier. I don’t think I’m a workaholic and I am getting paid overtime, so it’s all right.
I’m watching that episode of “SATC” about soul mates and I think it’s all a load of crap. This show sucks so much. People tell me that it gets better but I don’t know how much longer I can hold out. I don’t get why they complain so much. They have EVERYTHING. If I had an apartment, wardrobe, career, and figure like Carrie, I wouldn’t give two shits about looking for my soul mate. I would be way too busy with my life to be concerned with stuff like this.
However, I’ve also never felt lonely so I can’t really judge.
But Miranda—I can see why she has to complain. She’s the worst. And my hair is totally slowly growing out like hers. I WANT TO DIE.
Actually, it’s growing out like a mullet. Excellent. No, I still very much want to die.
