My girl doesn’t really feel like participating today.
I’m not gonna lie, I would really thoroughly enjoy a blowjob right now.
The Snows of Kilimanjaro by Ernest Hemingway
Getting to read one of my favourite short stories for class is a fine thing.
January 2013
Let’s do a list of all the shit that has happened to me so far this year:
- Get a ticket for over $400 because I was driving with a suspended license (which I had no idea about) after driving someone home because they needed a drive home after drinking,
- Find out that I have a fucking suspended license because the payment plan I made to deal with a ticket that was for $700 wasn’t accepted and I was never informed of and that I have to pay it off all at once to get my license reinstated
- Get charged with a misdemeanor for making one fucking mistake that resulted in my unknowingly selling alcohol to a minor who was working for the police
- Lose my job as a result of this one fucking mistake
- Went to court yesterday to deal with the $700 ticket and to find out what’s going on with the misdemeanor charge only to find out that I missed my hearing because I never received a notice about it, and that there was a warrant out for my arrest
- Got arrested, processed, and booked
- I have court tomorrow to deal with two misdemeanor charges now (selling alcohol to a minor and missing a court date)
On top of all of that legal bullshit:
- My car broke down and it’s going to cost me just over $700 to fix it
- & someone stole my phone today at school
All in all, this month is going to cost me about roughly around $1800 to $2400 (because of the fines that will go with the misdemeanor charges) and I have no fucking job.
Fuck you, January 2013. I was going to try to work on becoming a more positive person this year, but you have certainly beat that notion out of me.
You can make me jealous — and you can hurt most awfully — ‘cause my loving you is a chink in the armour of telling the world to go to hell and you can thrust a sword into it at any time. Lord — I thot I was loving you — If I wasnt I never could and never would love any one. Guess I was thinking too much about how I didn’t want you to go — Don’t you believe I love you? … I didn’t want to kiss you goodbye — that was the trouble — I wanted to kiss you good night — and there’s a lot of difference.
Ernest Hemingway, in a letter he wrote to his first wife, Hadley Richardson, whom he affectionately called “Hash”, a few days before Christmas 1920.
