How could my week possibly get better, you ask? [ 2006-05-24, 10:12 p.m. ]

I'll tell you.

Most of this 95-degree afternoon was spent at a child's birthday party, jumping around in a moonwalk with older charge and generally feeling sweaty and homicidal. One of the moms, (see paragraph two HERE), whom I've decided has either a natural or unnatural chemical problem, cornered me with a 10-minute monologue about all kinds of things, including this:

Psychobitchfromhell: Remember I told you about that nanny job well I had another one and the mom got sooo mad at me because she was kinda overweight - no offense - and she'd like buy all these outfits that were like $2,000 a pop and they were like 2 sizes too small for her and then she'd give them to me and she'd get like totally bent out of shape when I wore them because I looked better than she did I mean come on....etc. etc.

Me: ONE MORE MOTHERFUCKING WORD AND I WILL KILL YOU, BITCH!! (Sadly, that was only an interior part of the conversation...what I did do though was continually say, "Oh, really? WOW!" in the most insincere tone I could until she finally left me the hell alone.)
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