Though some of you may grow tired of reading or hearing about this, it will be the main topic of this journal (TRUST) for the next two years. Yes it is unfourtunate and yes I had been forewarned, but "time dont go back, it go forward."
Some of you know for sure who Princess Peapod is; others will guess. By the end of this, the first entry in my dramedy, you will know unless you are a midly retarded monkey (sorry Dante if your reading this, I still love.) Often times there will be so many thoughts running through my head that my entries will be disjointed and random thought. It will be as if I were suffering from ADD, and I apologize in advance for this. As my thoughts gather and clear and the anger that I am inevitable feeling subsides I will take the time to edit and revise my entries for clarity and sense, but part of the purity of this story will come from the fact it was written on pure emotion. Please enjoy.
After work I had plans to play tennis with a friend and then planned to visit mi abuelos y mi padres. As usual tennis was great and so was visiting the family. As usual I got free food out of the deal and put off my dad swearing I dont love them one more day (another story in itself). After watchin some TV and slammin a couple hot dogs I decided it was time to return to my abode. Great evening right. Well it was until I walked up the stairs and into my kitchen. La cocina litterally read "PRINCESS PEAPOD WAS HERE!"
Now I am no cleaning nazi, but let me lay the scene out for you. The rice cooker I purchased had been used to cook the rice and bullion I had bought. The rice laddel was put back in its holder incorrectly and it was covered in gunky bullion chicken rice. The cooker was off, but half full of uneaten rice. The tea cup that was used LAST night was still sitting on the coutner top dirty.
And this was just on my intial survey. It gets worst. Of course at this point I am angry and annoyed but it is something I can deal with, cause I know this is how Princess Peapod is. The following discoveries are what pushed me over the edge and have led to this entry.
While refilling the water bottles I had used for tennis I noticed a dirty fork in the sink with blue on it. I knew immediately what it had come from. Wanting only to confirm what I already new to be true I turned off the water and walked over to the fridge. Ms. Peapod had decided to have at the piece of cake I had brought home from work. Yes the slice was fucking huge, but it was MY fucking huge slice and I intended to enjoy every last bit of it tonight when I got home
. Ms. Peapod had dug into the cake, and I assume upon discovering its deliciousness ate the extra cake that was on the side of the plate
. Now that I am pissed cause she has eatin my damn cake, I also notice she has drank a good portion of my damn orange juice.
O JESUS DELIVER ME! MY FUCKING CAKE!!!!
All this shit prolly wouldnt be so bad if she brought some damn good food into the house that I could eat. But Princesses dont cook; they eat out, order delivery, or microwave, mooching off whatever cooks they can in the interim.
Once again I am on the verge of peeing on her toothbrush, but restraint is the sign of a good wise man, I refuse to be ignorant. Of course this means I must now have another talk about why I dont appreciate what was done. Will it sink in? Unlikely, but then what fodder would I have to fill this journal.
Till next time, Adios y Buenos Noche!
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