mainsqueeze's Diaryland Diary

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hobbies

Fuckin' A SHIT, I AM CRAZY AS A LOOOOOOON. No fucking kidding, man, poor Matt, poor, poor guy, he puts up with some hell from me, and he always makes me feel better afterward by saying, "Shush, it's okay, sweetheart," and how the hell did I get so lucky? Shit, maybe THAT'S the problem-- that I feel so lucky that I forget that I can give as good as I get. So he is lucky too. We are the two luckiest assholes in the whole entire universe. So, the wringer I put him through today? We-ellll... I was at Ye Old Crafte Shoppe pickin' up some shit for soap-making when I decided to call Matt and see if he wanted to go out to dinner. He said no, he didn't, and then, BLAMMO! My crazy bomb went off and I picked a fight about how we never go out, wah, wah, he doesn't love me, I'm bored, and so on, and it escalated until I was shrieking into the receiver like a maniac and Matt was calmly telling me to relax on the other end. Sigh. The patient of a fuckin' saint, I swear. To fully illustrate the swiftness of my mood swings, I called him back to say, oh so pathetically, "Im sorry, babe. I love you" mere moments after I bellowed, "Fine! Bye!" before hanging up on him. And my sweetheart, my dearest darlingest, aside from telling me that I need to learn how to calm down and trust him, had no criticisms to share and he said he loved me, too. Lucky.
So, about the soap-making: While it isn't exactly the new and exciting hobby I've been searching for, it at least gave me something somewhat productive to do instead of eating junk food and hovering over Matt, begging for attention. I made oatmeal and Roman chammomile soap and my oatmeal sunk straight to the bottom of the bars and into the clear glycerine, forming an unsightly clump of rolled oats. Whatevs, man. At least the shit smells pretty.

1:31 a.m. - 2008-01-11

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