mah mee mool

Today is Sunday. Apart from going to Church, I spend the day sleeping, cleaning out Hobbes' and the Ham-bams' cages, visiting Dobster ANNND enjoying my uncle's wonderful, wonderful food. A routined Sunday. It's Sunday Night. The feeling comes. The sick sick sick feeling. Haaeehh, a year ago, I slept through Sunday Night with depression, knowing that I've to wake up at 6.30, rush through the friggin' traffic jam and yet still stand at the stinky, stuffy, eww-wy place beside the gallery. A month ago, I slept through Sunday Night (or rather Monday morning 'cause of late-night cheapo, pirated movies) with no worries at all, happy happy, knowing that I'll probably be going skating or doing fun stuff and eating when I wake up. Today. Ugh, it's Sunday Night again. I have work tomorrow. Why can't those assholes be nice, then I would be enjoying work, and I won't get the feeling. Oh right, they're assholes. Biatch. My asshole is nice, shit comes out regularly, no pain at all, ahaha. I feel so bad calling all of 'em assholes, well fine, MOST of 'em. I have to sleep by 12 man. Gotta wake up earlehhh. Geeeez. I hate it when I get mosquito bites in places where scratching is simply not enough. Mannn, sugar wolf.