Summer Sucks.

I've never had a problem with stank, but last night at work I was disgusting. I'm sure I'm the only one who could smell my particular funk, so I wasn't terribly offended by the situation. But still. Ewe.
It's a disgusting 90 degrees outside, which means it's a delightful 95 degrees inside Wal Mart. I sweated my proverbial balls off.

I'm so tired today that I'm having an awful time trying to stay awake to write this. I don't even know why I'm bothering, I have nothing to say anyway.

I'm just hot and tired, and feel the need to express these sad facts to as many people as I possibly can.

Hot.

Woah Shit. That's Your Wife?

I found a picture on My Space today of a woman, whom I thought was Josh's wife.

It turned out to be a MTF (male turned female, for those of us who are a little slow with any sort of abbreviation, let alone 1337 sp33k).

To this I say, I'm sorry Josh. For many reasons.

Does leaving that in my journal make me an asshole? Or does the fact that I mistook a man for Ann, make me an asshole? Or does the fact that I bothered to even think about either fact, make me an asshole? I don't know and either way, I'm sorry for it.

I'm meant to go to Toronto tomorrow to spend a couple days with Andrew.
He of course, is going to be working the majority of the time, but at least I'll be in the same proximity as him for some of the time we spend together.

Relationships are hard.

It's not the distance that is making this one difficult, it's the fact that for the first time in my life, I've had a highly sexual relationship and now, two years and some odd months in, I don't want to fuck.

At all.

And I feel bad for it.

It's just not in me to do right now. I don't know if it's because I'm bored by it, or if it's because I'm not getting anything out of it, or because it's so regimented. Any way, I don't enjoy it and I'm terrified to tell Andrew because well, what man wants to hear that his girlfriend doesn't enjoy sex anymore?
Andrew especially would be miserable. He puts so much importance on his ability to fuck. It's his manly right, his manly gift, part of his big manly pride that really is a complete pisser, 'cause how the fuck am I supposed to get him over that?

I suppose I should be worried that I'm depressed. I don't feel depressed, but then, how am I supposed to know if I am or not?
I'm stressed about school, and moving to a strange city where I'll be giving up all forms of companionship and comfort blankets. I'm worried about saving money, and about being a good, "wife." About getting so deep in a relationship that it's beginning to slowly brink on the beginning of a marriage and well, just living life successfully.

It's a complete load of absolute bullshit.

I hate the standards, the expectations.
Andrew told me a few weeks back that he wants me to have a high paying job. Not an elaborate one, just one that will meet his paycheck because he wants to live comfortably.Brutal.It really isn't a wonder that I'm not enthused currently by sex.

I wish I knew where my sex drive went; I wish I knew how to fix it. Right now though, I just want all males to get off me 'cause I'm sick of the attention and am definitely sick of the expectations.

Mint?

Josh had the worst breath at work last night.

It wasn't the, "D00d, do you want a piece of gum" breath, it was the, "Holy shit, I need to stand on the other side of the room before I offer you an entire bottle of Scope" breath.
I of course, being a socially akward dofus and also being, drastically unaware of proper manners for such situations, decided to say nothing about it and attempted to ignore him for the majority of the evening. It sorta worked.

When I was around him I tried to hold my breath. When that didn't work, I breathed through my mouth.

Nasty.

My relationship with Josh has slowly, but steadily spiraled downward into a standoff-ish abyss of annoyance.
His wife casually broke into his email account a few weeks back and now we're all paying the price for it.

They're in therapy.
I feel stupid.
He thinks he's created the mess.
She's confused.
I want to kill her.
She wants to be my friend.
He wants me to come over to play video games.
I want to stay as far away as possble.
She wants us to hang out.
I want to pretend the whole relationship didn't happen.

Did I mention I want to kill her?

With a paperclip and a kiwi.

He's asked me to go to his daughter's soccer game this evening and I'm torn.
There's part of me that wants to go for the sake of going somewhere and because I genuinely like his daughter and am sincerely worried for her emotional and mental upbringing, especially since her parents are four fucking weirdos.
The other part of me just wants to sleep.

I think Andrew would favour the latter.

Did I Mention Blogger Sucks?

It's official.

Blogger.com has fucked me over for the millionth time by making my mother fucking web page go wacky.
I'm sure my devoted readers (all two of you) have noticed that my page has been right fucked for awhile.

I've tried to fix this.

Those of you who know me (all two of you), know that I am not computer savvy.

My solution? Delete the god damned blog.

If anyone is interested in my past, or is looking for a source of information for their highschool essays (I can dream), my past is randomly located here:

http://http://blog.myspace.com/ballingdiddums

It was just easier to relocate there.

I'll be posting the rest of my life (if said websites agree with me) at both addresses.

No fear faithful followers.

I have returned.