Mad Poet's Society
So my mother was being a bitch. Okay, like hormones or
something. Also, like with the baby, she was hella
supportive when I told her, but now she's all fucking with
my head or something. It's messed up. So, anyway, she and
this guy get into a domestic brawl, right? Glock 9, butcher
knife, they're really going at it. I mean, christ, people.
The neighbors have called the cops and God, how much more
fucking worse could the weekend get, right? Never say that,
it will ALWAYS get worse. But you know, this time, not much
happened. I got on the bus at 10:55 pm, rode it all night,
caught the train at 7 am, and got into my bed sometime
after 11 am. Fell asleep to the sounds of boinking. *sighs*
Time for bed. Too much alcohol is getting to my brain. The
weekend was screwed.