B-L-A-H.

I'm boycotting my own lunch.

I am still full from last night. And I am only so sure that if I eat again, I will meet certain death. Of course I did the nigga-riffic thing and brought hella leftovers for lunch... like I really planned to eat today. I know good and well that if I so much as glance at a rib I'll pass out. Therefore, the Almighty Avaricious (ha, look it up!), Morbidly Miserable, MiniMee-MistyMarie, Neighborhood Queen (Reigning Supreme, bow down Nigga!) is refusing to eat at 12:00, in the best interests of her own poor tiny stomach.

Now, since it is a workday, what else can I complain about?

Nothing really, because things are going okay. (Not all extra great, but okay, which is good for me.) The lab was in impecable condition when I returned this morning, my parking space was empty, The Lakers won, I wasn't (and will probably never be again) hungry this morning, and I'm not holding any grudges from last week.

Well, that last one is a lie.

I had to give my most recent ex the most fiercest cussing out I've had to dish out in the longest. I can't remember the last time I had to get crazy like that. I almost felt bad I cussed him out so severly. Notice I said almost. I dont know why niggas test me. I can be such a good friend, even if I did break up with you. But no. They gotta make me jump bitch on they ass. Oh well. I'm holding a grudge against my ex for making me cuss so much and so loudly that my daddy got up and closed the doors and windows. Now if you don't understand how serious that is, my daddy doesnt leave his couch or remote control for anything. As in, NOTHING CAN MAKE HIM MOVE! Other than going to the bathroom, of course. He asks us to get his water and food and whatever else so he doesn't have to move away from the TV. So for my dad to get up and start shutting the house down, I had to be cutting up pretty bad. So I had to apologize to my daddy, to my next door neighbors, to my across the street neighbors. So I'm also holding a grudge for him making me apologize that many times to people I dont even like, but have enough decency to respect.

I am hereby filing a formal Kingdom Anti-Asshole Complaint against Ex-Boyfriend Number 10590. (Okay, there aren't that many ex-boyfriends. But dammit, I'm close.)

Well, it is time for work. As always, The Neighborhood Queen has mandated it, and it shall be so. Carry on, peasants.