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I should be downstairs, laying on my couch, trying to sleep. I woke up this morning feeling like a big pile of dog doo. Yes, that's right. I felt like shit.
Anyhow. Not the point.
Earlier I called Alfred and he was on his way to supper... so I told him that I had one quick question about something and I needed to know what he thought I should do. ((Mind you, I haven't yet told him my problem... just that I was going to ask him about a problem.)) He goes, "Eh, keep the baby." in this, like joking voice.
Now, I know he was just trying to be funny. He was just joking around, ya know? Being a smart ass.
But it really fucking bugged me seeing as I want a baby and he tells me I can't have one.
Aw well. I guess thats just me though... making drama where there is none.
Actually, the question I needed to ask him had nothing to do with anything serious... I just needed his opinion on whether I should walk my sick ass over to my uncle's house ((3 blocks away)) do deliver a message. See, my uncle has no phone of his own so we here at casa de loser act as his message service. It's like the perfect voicemail.
Gah.
It was a little funny earlier... some bill-collecter man called and I answered the phone. He asked me if my dad was home. I told him I had no dad. My daddy died. ::Haha::. Serves the fucker right for calling here and not knowing his shit. Let alone for asking a 21 year old woman if her dad is home. And besides the fact that there is no "Mr. Hoard" and there never has been... and the fact that I have never lived with my dad. Aw well. So mr. bill collecter man felt like the jack-ass he is. That's funny.
I'm going to go now and go to sleep. I feel like crap. With a capital C.R.A.P.