Six hours...six fucking hours my husband had me running around a mall...no, I'm sorry, three different fucking malls. I brought it on myself I guess. I needed to go for one thing (some double sided tape and this stick on bra thing) and I asked him to drive me. I get my one thing and my prissy bitch of a husband decided he wanted to go shopping. There's a reason I don't go shopping with him...because everytime I do I end up in a mall for six fucking hours! (or more).
Walking around malls that long is not fun on a regular day, and it's certainly not fun when you're 8 months pregnant. At one point I had to just sit down and tell him to come get me when he was done. You would think a person would buy a lot of shit in six hours. Want to guess how many bags he ended up with? One. One bag...not even a big bag, one little ass regular bag. Two shirts...that's what he had...two fucking shirts. Six hours for two shirts.
So after getting home at 7 p.m. (we left the house at 11:30 a.m.) I was understandably exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to curl up in my bed and go to sleep for the rest of the night...but no, I couldn't do that. We had to go to this black tie Easter thing thanks to Emily fucking Gilmore (my mother). So I had just enough time to get dressed and head right back out.
I hate people.
10:58 a.m. - 2005-03-13
Recent entries:
Goodbye Diaryland. - 2005-03-24
Happy Birthday Asha! - 2005-03-21
Six Fucking Hours! - 2005-03-13
My Baby Shower: Chock Full O' Debauchery - 2005-03-06
Peanut Butter Saves Lives! - 2005-03-02
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