Great balls of fire! Have you no compassion on my frazzled nerves? Is it not enough that you sent Chris on Friday after the cricket and the shower and the make up and the coffee?
Did you really have to send Dog Kicking Bitch into the store Monday?
Think about that for a second. Did you really, really need to send them?
Was it abso-fucking-lutely necessary?
Did I pulverize a pack of puppies in a past life? Murder a litter of kittens? Did I personally crucify Jesus Christ? Am I responsible for the Holocaust or something? Just tell me, please. How have I offended you?
Because whatever it was, no matter how fun it was at the time I was doing it (because being bad can sometimes be very fun), I am very, very sorry, and I will never do it again. I swear on Stone Henge and the Louvre and Florence and the Beatles and my iPod and Choo Choo and my own personal life. What I did that was so offensive to you then, I will not repeat again.
Just stop torturing me.
That's all I want. Just to be safe and comfortable in my own little space of life. I don't ask for overlap. I don't like the idea of my personal life connecting with my professional life. Damn it, it's just not good! Especially when I don't like the people coming!
Alright, so I'm pretty OK with the children as far as kids go. They like my dog and my dog adores them, so brownie points to them. But the mother?
You are a cruel, cruel Universe.
I hate you very much right now.