On a happier note, I got several letters from the unemployment office today. Yes, it seems I will, in fact, be drawing partial unemployment from those evil capitalist bastards who decided to cut my hours down to practically nothing. I've been told that they did it because of my smart mouth. Those bitches are now paying for not liking my attitude, and I find that absolutely hilarious. It's not much, but i'm getting from the state every week what I get from the bank every two weeks. My pay will stay about the same, while I get to stay home on Tuesdays and Thursdays (seemingly to help Bobby to the toilet and scrub things). I am absolutely overjoyed at the suffering of the capitalists. Stupid Republicans...
Mary is having a Halloween party. I have dubbed myself co-hostess. I have decided to be in charge of music and practicality, since she and Amy have the tendancy to come up with wild ideas that could never possibly work. It works for me. I am also jotting ideas for cool stuff down. If any of you go, the chandelier with drip candles was my idea, and I think it's fabulous. We went shopping for supplies the other night, and to my surprise we found that Wal-Mart sells imitation hands of glory. for those of you who are unfamiliar with the arcane, a hand of glory is the hand of a hanged thief which is soaked in melted wax, and tapers inserted into the fingers. It is used as a charm to avoid detection and to break into people's houses. If the light on the thumb goes out, you are about to be caught and should scram. Very interesting that Wal-Mart should sell such implements. Of course, we bought one, because Mary was just as excited about it as I was. It is really cool, you all should get one. As the finger candles melt, the wax looks like blood and reveals a skeletal hand. Very spooky.
Well, that's about all for now. I don't feel like dealing with page builder tonight so I just wrote this in Notepad and will post it later. Maybe. Obviously if you are reading this, I did post. So nyah.
P.S. Right after I finished this, Bobby stopped his snoring and said something. In a calm voice I asked him what he said, and he replies "I hate that freaky bastard." To which I ask what freaky bastard. "Cookie Monster, or whatever the hell his name is." I ask why he hates cookie monster and he says "I just do." I inform that I hate cookie monster too, just to keep him from jumping out of bed, hobbling over to me, and strangling me or something (even though he can't walk) and ask if he's asleep. He mumbles "uh-huh" and resumes snoring. The absolute highlight of my day. I wonder what Freud would say?
