Yesterday turned on me. After Corey got home from work, D**** called and told me she wasn't going to the welfare office because her husband wasn't home, and she didn't have a ride. She said she was just going to take A****** in to the hospital so she can get her epilepsy meds. It pissed me off, because at this point, her kids need the food stamps and medical insurance. And the hospital here is going to take A****** in and waste a few hours of their lives so they can tell them that they need to see their regular physician. So *insert creative expletive here*, I told her I'd come and take her to the welfare office. It turns out that her piece of shit - I mean, husband - had to be there with her because she put his name first on the application. So they have to get his fingerprints, and also proof of any income he may be getting from this guy he supposedly works for. He can't even manage to leave her a few bucks for a daily bus pass! I'm so pissed at him. "He forgot," she says. Well, a fuckload of help THAT is. Doesn't he realize that this is for HIS goddamn kids? Hell, that he may even benefit from it? What a cocksucking piece of used up condom rubber. Fuck. I hurt my wrist when I left their motel room. That's right, motel room. A mother, an asshole, a teenager, and twin 5 year old boys living in a motherfucking roach motel. Goddammit. Anyway, I was so pissed I was screaming and beating my steering wheel as I left because dickweed won't take care of his fucking family.

Not that it upsets me or anything.

Anyhow, on to other subjects. I went to Christine's last night after I left D****'s. We sat around, she heard out my bitching, and I heard out a little of hers. She fed me half of her pannido (yummy! but easy on that thar ranch sauce, yo...heh - I said yo...) and half of her potato wedges. And shared her strawberry Minute Maid soda with me. I'm a spoiled rotten little brat. We sat around and crocheted granny squares, and the horrifying thought that Christie may be pregnant occurred to Christine. We all started obsessing and fretting over the possibility. We finally got far enough under Christie's skin that she went out and bought a pregnancy test (and cheesecake, woohoo!). When she got home, we made her go into the bathroom and take the fucking thing. When she came out and said it was negative, I made her go back in and bring it out to show us. How sad is that? I absolutely have zero trust for her. Anyway, it really was negative. THANK the GODS!!! Not that it's exactly my issue to worry about, but Christine would have gone ballistic, I think. WAY too many issues involved for her to have to deal with Christie being pregnant. My clever insults for yesterday: 1. Re: D**** "I'm losing my mind!" "No great loss." 2. Re: B**** "I wish that piece of shit would crawl back up into the asshole he fell out of."

the last trail...the next path