I wish I gave a shit about football. It'd make taking the screaming abuse about the fucking televison much easier to take. I know, I know, men are like that. Tell the fucking cat! I came downstairs and was nicely making YOU a bagel, and all you fucking do is yell and bitch and scream about whatever the fuck at me. Then I give it to you, and you begrudingly shrug out a "thanks" and go back to bitching. Fan fucking tastic.
Then you get mad that I don't like it, because I'm not allowing you to have opinions. I hate his very fucking "mindset" sometimes.
WHY THE FUCK TO I PUT UP WITH THIS SHIT? Why can't I grow myself a set of balls.
I was watching Clerks last night, right at the part where Dante remembers being the kind of kid who wouldn't rock the boat to shit comfortably. I always thought that wasn't me, but maybe it is.
