I’m upset. I’m terrified. I hate my job. I hate the fact that I have spent half my life doing a job I hate. I hate the fact that I spent $1000.00 on a promise of feeling better and I only feel worse.

 I hate the fact that I’m such a fucking loser that I wasted my time at university hanging out seeing bands and drinking and getting high instead of studying.

I’m happy with my personal life- husband, child, friends, but GODDAMMN IT I hate going to my humiliating job every day, and I hate it worse that I only get two 15-minutes breaks and an hour lunch per day and I spend that worrying that I’m not cleaning the house or I’m being harried by the cat or worrying that my baby's school might get shot up and end up just another story on CNN. I like the cat, but Jeez Louise, I can’t deal with the cat on top of the “I need to change a travel.” WTF does that even mean??? You need to change a travel? A flight? A car? A hotel? Why don’t you just go home? Do your fucking job and go home? I suppose you’d rather tell me your shit-sob story for five minutes before you bother to tell me you name. Your name that is apparently Sfffndtlpftg. Love it. Please find the International Phonetic Alphabet below, and please feel free to shove it wherever it gives you the most pleasure.

Also, eat me.

Much love.

e

Trying this writing thing again. Made pseudo-Reubens tonight, and they were really good. Pics below, no recipe to follow, because there isn't a recipe. It's some sandwiches: HEB Bauernbrot, Oaxaca cheese, Löwensenf German mustard, and Cleveland Sauerkeraut.