soapboxdiner

I am, whatever you say I am...

So, I've made myself a pact. No more will I worry and fret for the Good Neighbor. Sure, she's a single mother of two who makes barely minimum wage and hasn't paid her rent in a year and may lose her car soon because she just lost her cheap insurance and the bank may not like it if she doesn't maintain her required insurance, and her stepfather who watches the kids for free is a disappearing meth head who refuses to watch the kids after 6 anymore (that extra 30 minutes interfers with the grandfolks' "family time"), so I go get the babies and watch them for her. Nope, I'm not feeling one single bit bad for her anymore. Why will I not worry for her anymore? Because she took off today for a 10 day trip to Disneyland. Anyone willing to spend thousands of dollars on a vacation when they are in danger of losing house and transportation... well, I figure they can fend for themselves and/or learn the hard way.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I just see very bad things coming, and there is not a single thing I can do for them. God, I hope I'm wrong.

In other news, I've got Bowling for Columbine, Bringing Down the House and The Life of David Gale on this weekend's agenda. Someone tell me to shut my yap about other people's finances, cuz $40 of movie fees later and every last bill for the month staring me down, I have no room to talk about irresponsible spending habits.

Man, what a boring, boring entry. Sorry, peoples. What can I say. That's just the way I am.

You know what else? I typed 100 pathology reports today. That's over one hundred pages of typing. All I want tonight is this here beer, my couch, and a naked Scandinavian man to rub my back. He could be oiled up, if he got that urge. I wouldn't mind a bit.

7:03 pm - 10.03.03
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